Like Shattered Glass
by Elise Langer
Summary: A case in Georgia goes awry and Mulder and Scully are on opposite sides of the fence. Complete
1. Chapter 1

Hi, this is my first X-Files fanfic. I hope that if anybody reads it that you enjoy it. I always like reviews. Also, this story contains some slight spoilers for season 5. Enjoy!

I don't own X-Files or any other characters: they belong to Chris Carter. I simply like to create adventures for them.

Like Shattered Glass

The voice over the PA system woke me out of my doze, and I sat up with a small yawn. I listened closely, but the flight that the female voice was announcing wasn't the one I wanted. After the voice went off the air, I looked around for my partner. He wasn't anywhere to be seen in the Dulles International Airport terminal. Just great: I doze off for a few minutes and he disappears on me. If he didn't be careful, he was going to make us miss our flight to Atlanta. For a moment I considered calling him on my cell phone, but then I changed my mind. Mulder was a grown man, and a Federal agent for Pete's sake - if he couldn't keep track of time, then he deserved to miss his flight.

"Hey Scully," Mulder said from directly behind me, and I turned around to look at him. He was holding a bag of sunflower seeds and another bag of chips.

"Where have you been?" I asked as he sat back down beside me.

"To get a snack. Here, I got the chips for you." Mulder held the bag of chips out to me.

"Do you have any idea how much grease and salt are in those things?"

"A lot; that's why they're good. But hey, if you don't want them, no skin off my nose."

My stomach grumbled, reminding me that we had been sitting here longer than we were supposed to have been, and that I had missed lunch. I grudgingly held out my hand and Mulder the dropped the bag into it with a grin.

We both sat in the terminal seats, crunching away on our snacks. Every once in a while, Mulder would glance at his watch in impatience. After about the fifth glance, his foot started tapping, and then his fingers started tapping on his knee.

"Mulder, would you quite fidgeting?" I half asked, half ordered. There were times when I found that twitching and moving very annoying, and this was one of those times. It made me want to fidget, and as a rule, I didn't fidget.

"Why?" he asked, with a cheeky grin.

"Because, it's distracting."

"Hey, why don't you try fidgeting? It'll help pass the time," he told me, and then looked at his watch again. He frowned and tapped it, then held it up to his ear. "It's not dead. Why aren't we on that plane yet?"

"Because the flight was delayed, Mulder," I explained to him, almost as if I was explaining the situation to a six year old.

"I just wanna get this case over with," he grumbled.

"Why?" I asked. "So we can go back to moonlighting?" My voice held a slightly peevish tone, and it didn't go unnoticed by Mulder.

"We are not moonlighting, Scully. We are doing a job that needs to be done. We're looking for the truth," he very quickly pointed out, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Ever since the basement office had caught fire and we had been taken off the X-Files, we had been running around like two possessed fanatics whenever we weren't specifically assigned to something. It was starting to wear my nerves thin, but Mulder never got tired of it. It was my personal opinion that sometimes he liked it even better than just being permanently assigned to the X-Files. It was the thrill of the chase, or something like that. Mulder was determined to find the truth, no matter what, even if he had to break a few rules, and push a few boundaries.

"Mulder, we are moonlighting," I argued. "Moonlighting is when someone works another job in addition to the one he already has, and that is what we are doing."

Mulder gave a shrug, then said, "It's necessary Scully. Somebody's gotta do it, and that's us."

This time I couldn't resist rolling my eyes and sighing. Mulder wouldn't be convinced any other way, no matter what anyone said: I had resigned myself to that fact sometime ago.

The female voice again came on the air, and this time she was announcing our flight number, departing through Gate A-10, to Atlanta, Georgia. The first class passengers boarded first, and then it was our turn to board the Boeing 737. I knew Mulder didn't really care for economy class seating; there wasn't a lot of room for his long legs. Unfortunately, the FBI was quite convinced that agents don't require comfort.

We stuffed our carry-on bags into the overhead compartments, and then seated ourselves. Our seats were just in front of the wing, so at least if we looked out, we could see something other than the wing.

"Someday, just for the heck of it, I'm gonna fly first class," Mulder grumbled as he settled himself into his seat. "It's a lot more comfortable up there, and the food's a lot better. Plus you get better service."

"They serve the same food in economy as they do in first class," I said, but Mulder shook his head.

"No they don't. I've been in first class and it's better up there."

"Mulder, you're a psychologist. You should know that it's just a matter of the mind. You're paying more money, the seats are bigger, so therefore the food is better, but it's really not, it's just your imagination."

"I'm tellin' you Scully, it's not just a matter of the mind," Mulder protested.

"I've been in first class too, Mulder, and the food isn't any better," I countered.

"Yes it is."

This conversation was going to start getting ridiculous in about a minute, so I decided to end it.

"From my experience Mulder, it isn't any better. Maybe your experience was different."

"Yeah, it was."

I buckled my seat belt and looked out the window, as a sign that this conversation was over. Thankfully, Mulder got the hint.

During the whole time we were taxiing and taking off, I sat rigid in my seat. I never liked flying, and I always kept a tight grip on the armrests as the plane lifted off the ground into the air. Sometimes I felt myself actually pulling up on the armrest, trying to lift the plane off the ground. I knew it was absurd, but it made me feel a little better.

"Well, I guess we better look over the case file," Mulder said with a heavy sigh, and I looked over at him with surprise.

"You mean you haven't even looked at it yet?" I asked, my voice betraying my surprise. Usually, Mulder was the one who brought me up to speed on a case.

"I been busy," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I'll bet," I remarked rather sarcastically. "Are you going to get the file, or do I have to?"

"I'll get it." Mulder got the file out of his briefcase and flipped it open, causing papers to flutter to the floor of the airplane. "Sorry," he said, giving a rather sheepish grin and picking up the scattered papers. He started reading to himself, and then said out loud, "Well, it says here that we're going to investigate the shooting death of a man named Phillip Monterale. He was found dead in his suite at Peachtree Apartments. The official coroner's report shows that cause of death is six bullets from a .44 Magnum, and at the moment the Atlanta PD is unable to trace the gun to its owner," Mulder paused for breath and then said, "This is a cut and dry case. Why'd the PD call in the FBI?"

"Well," I began, "I did some checking on Mr. Monterale before we left, and it turns out that he has a record in the federal courts. Back in 1986, he was brought up on charges of drug trafficking and illegal liquor production, and -"

"Bootlegging?" Mulder interrupted, and I nodded.

"Yeah, bootlegging. He was charged with illegal sale of the liquor, but the charges were dropped because of insufficient evidence to tie him to the crimes. However, several of his buyers went down for buying illegal liquor, but none of them could testify that it was Monterale who was the seller.'

"What about the drug charges?"

"When the DEA arrested him, it was on the word of an informant, but when it came to the arraignment, they were unable to produce the informant, and those charges were dropped as well."

"Sounds like one lucky son of gun. Nobody could touch him."

"Well, until now."

"I still don't know why the PD called us."

"This could turn out to be an interstate investigation."

"If we find something to charge his killer federally on other than murder, is the city of Atlanta willing to give us the murderer?"

"They haven't made that clear as of right now."

"They better."

I had to smile at Mulder's vehemence, but I also had to agree with him. If we could put some criminal away on multiple federal charges that would keep him locked away longer than just a murder charge, then the city of Atlanta better let us charge federally.

Several hours later, we touched down in Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International, and the plane taxied to Concourse A, and then the passengers disembarked. Mulder and I made our way through the world's busiest airport to the baggage claim, but we had to wait about fifteen minutes before our bags came through.

"I wonder if we get anyone to meet us," said Mulder, looking through the swarms of people. "Or are they just gonna let us find our own way around Atlanta?"

"C'mon Mulder, let's go see if we can get a rental car," I suggested to my crabby partner. Why couldn't he just treat this like any other case? Oh wait, this wasn't any other case, this was a normal case.

"Excuse me, are you Agents Mulder and Scully?" came from a female voice behind us, and Mulder and I turned around to see a young woman looking at us.

Mulder smiled and stuck out his hand, saying, "Yeah, I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is Special Agent Dana Scully."

The young woman returned the smile warmly and shook Mulder's hand, then mine. "Nice to meet you both. I'm APD Detective Nicole Beaumont. I'm the one who requested the FBI send some agents down to assist with the case."

"How'd you find us?" Mulder asked curiously. "And out of all these people, how'd you recognize us?"

"Gut hunch, plus the fact that you're both wearing those federal trench coats," Detective Beaumont replied with a grin that reached all the way to her warm brown eyes.

"Federal trench coats?" Mulder asked with a grin.

"Yeah, my dad used to say he could always tell who the Feds were because they all wore the same type of trench coats."

"Pretty good observation."

"Yeah, my dad was a pretty observant guy. So have you guys been briefed on the case, or at least read the file I faxed you?"

"We read the file," I answered, and Detective Beaumont smiled again.

"Good," she said. "How 'bout I take you out to the crime scene now, then you can get checked into a hotel. You both want to get a jump on this case, right?"

"Oh, definitely," responded Mulder, and I quickly glanced up at him. Something in his face told me that he wasn't going to hate this assignment anymore. I heaved a silent sigh. No matter how cranky Mulder got, he could always brighten up when he saw a good looking woman, and Detective Beaumont was a very attractive woman.

"So, how long have you two worked for the FBI?" Detective Beaumont asked as we drove through Atlanta to our crime scene.

"I've given eleven years of my life to the Federal government," Mulder replied with a grin.

"How 'bout you, Agent Scully?"

"Six years," I told Detective Beaumont.

"Do you guys like it? I mean, is it satisfying work?"

I almost had to laugh at her question. Was it satisfying? I hadn't done anything I expected to when I joined the FBI. For the last five years of my life, I had been assigned to the most bizarre unit I'd ever heard of, and I worked with a man driven by a mission. Just three weeks ago, all our work had gone up in flames, leaving behind nothing but ashes and what information that was in Mulder's photographic memory. Everything he'd worked for was gone, and now we couldn't even start over. Was the work satisfying? Was it even worth all that we'd been through; all that I'd been through?

"Scully?"

I jumped slightly when Mulder called my name. He was looking back at me from the front seat.

"What?" I asked.

"We're here," he told me, and I nodded as my mouth made a small, silent, "Oh". I hadn't heard even what Mulder had told Detective Beaumont. And maybe that was a good thing.

Mr. Monterale's suite in Peachtree Apartments was on the 17th floor of the building, but the elevator was a fast one and it didn't take us that long to reach our destination.

There was yellow police tape across the door, and two of Atlanta's uniformed finest were standing on either side of it, making sure no one could entered and disturb any evidence that there might be.

It looked like Mr. Monterale had lived well. The living room of the suite was huge, and luxurious. The walls were a light brown color, with darker wood around the door frames, and the furniture was leather. There was a huge television on the one side of the room and a mini bar on the other.

I did a lot of quick observing as Detective Beaumont led us through the apartment to Mr. Monterale's bedroom. The bedroom was lighter in coloring, mostly creams and light golds. It had a decidedly feminine touch to it. The bed was large and surrounded by lacy, peach colored curtains, with lots of little pillows.

"I take it from the bed," Mulder said with a slight smirk, "that there was a woman who lived here."

"You would be correct Agent Mulder," replied Detective Beaumont, also smiling.

"You know, so long as we're working together, you might as well drop the Agent, and just call me Mulder," he offered.

"Well, you can call me Nicole," she told him. It seemed to me that she accented her speech a little more than it already was, but then, that was just me.

"Has a weapon been found yet?" I asked, interrupting the little look they were sharing. They both jumped slightly and looked over at me, and I raised an eyebrow, waiting for Nicole's reply.

"No, not as of yet. We do know that the bullets were .44 caliber, but we haven't been able to trace the gun," said Nicole, and I nodded. That much we already knew.

"So who's the woman in this story?" Mulder asked curiously.

"Alexis Monterale. She's Phillip Monterale's much younger wife," Nicole told us.

"How much younger?" I questioned.

"Thirty years difference."

Mulder gave a whistle, and I just shook my head. The woman must've married Monterale for money, that's all I could figure.

"So just how much was Mr. Monterale worth, anyway?" asked Mulder.

"Well, including the properties he owned, and the income from his businesses, he was worth about six hundred million,"

"Wow!" Mulder exclaimed. "And so, who all gets that money?"

"He left everything he owned to Alexis," Nicole stated with a pointed look.

"So you think that the wife is the murderer?" I asked. "You don't have any other suspects that you might be considering?"

"Well, there's a lot that leads the APD to believe that Mrs. Monterale is a possibility for a prime suspect," Nicole began to explain. "About two weeks ago, she and her husband were seen fighting in the hallway. It got so loud and vicious that their neighbors called us in. Of course, nobody pressed charges, and we assumed they made up. But two nights before Mr. Monterale was killed, their neighbors heard them fighting again in the elevator."

"That doesn't make Mrs. Monterale a prime suspect," I disagreed. "I read Mr. Monterale's file, and it seems to me that there are a lot of people that would want him dead. For instance, the buyers of the illegal liquor he was selling back in 1986. Many of them went down for charges, and they couldn't cut a deal with the Federal prosecutor because they weren't sure that it was him they bought from. Have you checked how many of them are out of prison by now?"

Nicole shook her head with a slight smile. "I know about Mr. Monterale's past record and business dealings, but I also know that Mrs. Monterale happens to own a .44 Magnum, which she says is out at the home she and Mr. Monterale owned near Bond Swamp."

"Do you have people looking for that gun?"

"Yes, we do, but they haven't turned anything up at the moment."

"Where is Mrs. Monterale at the moment? I'd like to talk to her."

"She's staying at a friend's apartment, about three blocks from here."

"After Agent Mulder and I are finished here, I would like it if you would take us to talk to her."

"I can do that," Nicole agreed.

As I turned to start looking over the room, I caught Mulder giving me a funny look, but I couldn't decipher it. So, I just decided to dismiss the look and get on with the investigation.

Beside a large bay window there was a dark red blood stain on the cream colored carpet, and the area where Monterale's body had been was taped out in the original position. It was about halfway between the window and the bed. From what I could tell, he had been lying on his face, with his arms and legs spread eagle when his body had been found. It looked like he had fallen that way when he had been shot, so he'd probably been shot in the back. There was blood spatter on the white chair in front of him, and also on the bedspread, near the head of the bed. It was also on the walls around the chair, and on the night stand and lamp.

"Hey, take a look at this Scully," Mulder motioned me over to the wall behind the chair. "See, I count four bullet holes in the wall."

"The file said six bullets were fired," I said, and then turned to Nicole. "Did your crime scene investigators recover the four bullets from the wall?"

"Yeah. Right now they're at the crime lab."

"Did the other two bullets stay in Mr. Monterale?" asked Mulder, and Nicole nodded in the affirmative. He went back to analyzing the wall. "It's an erratic pattern," he said to me. "See, it starts down, but then it goes up, then up a little bit more, then way down. It's weird."

"It is. I'd like to talk the coroner and see just how many bullets it took to kill Monterale."

"Okay, we'll do that after we talk to Mrs. Monterale."

We looked around the bedroom a little more, but other than the blood and bullet holes, there didn't seem to be a whole lot of interest or help. Mulder went through the nightstand drawers, and I went through the desk drawers to see if there was anything that the Atlanta PD had missed, but there wasn't, so we moved onto the bathroom.

The bathroom was about as big as the bedroom. The bathtub was built for two people, and big enough for me to swim in. There was also a separate shower stall, and 'his' and 'her' sinks in front of a lighted mirror.

As Mulder looked around, he let out another low whistle. "I'd say Monterale spent a lot of his money on his living arrangements," he remarked as he started to search the large chestnut colored armoire.

"Yeah, he did spend a lot of money on his living arrangements, and his vehicles," Nicole said, leaning against the door frame. "He also spent a lot of money on Alexis; you know, clothes, jewelry, cars, trips, shopping sprees, stuff of that nature."

"Did Alexis get an allowance?" Mulder questioned.

"No," replied Nicole, "she didn't. She had her own account that a part of the profits of his businesses went into, and if she ever needed more money for any reason, she could draw from his accounts at any time."

"But now that her husband is gone it's all her's," said Mulder.

The Atlanta PD had done a good job of finding anything that might be evidence, so it didn't take us very long to go over the bathroom, or the rest of the apartment for that matter. All told, the time we spent at the apartment came to about an hour.

Nicole suggested that we just drive up to see Mrs. Monterale, even though the place she was staying was only three blocks away. It would save us from having to walk back to the car, and it would also save us time. Mulder and I both agreed to the idea, so about ten minutes later, we were heading up to the 20th floor residence of Tiffany Perkins, the friend Mrs. Monterale was staying with.

A willowy young woman answered Nicole's sharp rap on the door, and stood looking at us with a rather haughty expression on her face.

"Yes?" she asked, and we all got out our badges as Nicole introduced us and told her we wanted to speak with Mrs. Monterale.

"I believe you've bothered Mrs. Monterale quite enough," said the young woman, and began to close the door, but Nicole stuck her foot in it.

"Miss Perkins, this is a murder investigation, and Mrs. Monterale is the widow of the victim. She might be able to tell us something now that she wasn't able to tell us on the night of her husband's death. We need to get all the information we possibly can."

Miss Perkins narrowed her blue eyes at us slightly: she seemed to be considering whether or not to let us in. Finally, she sighed, opened the door and motioned for us to come.

"Thanks," said Mulder with one of his most charming smiles, and Miss Perkins seemed to relax slightly. In fact, she even smiled at us. Well, mostly at Mulder.

"It might be a few minutes before you can talk to Mrs. Monterale. She's lying down right now, but I'll go get her," Miss Perkins told us, and then she disappeared back a long hallway. Almost immediately she came hurrying back.

"Please excuse my poor manners," she said, smiling sheepishly. "Why don't you all have a seat in the living room? It's right in here."

I thanked her as she led us into the living room, and then she went to get Mrs. Monterale.

"Well, you certainly know how to charm people," Nicole remarked to Mulder and he grinned.

"It's one of my better qualities," he said, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He was definitely trying to charm Nicole, and so far it looked like she wasn't immune to his charm.

"Detective Beaumont, I thought you'd gotten everything you needed when you talked to me the other night," a cool voice interrupted the interaction between Mulder and Nicole, and we all looked up to see a tall, pale young woman standing in the doorway of the living room.

"Mrs. Monterale, this is Special Agent Mulder and Special Agent Scully from the FBI," Nicole explained. "I called them down here to help me with the case, and they'd like to talk to you, if that's alright."

Mrs. Monterale sat down on the light blue sofa, and studied us with sad green eyes. Then she spoke: "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to catch my husband's killer, and if that means more talking, so be it."

"Thank you," said Nicole, then she and Mulder looked over at me. I supposed that it was going to be me doing the main questioning, since I was the one who had suggested it in the first place.

"Mrs. Monterale, I'm sure you've already gone over the night your husband was murdered with Detective Beaumont, but if you can handle it, I'd like to go over it again," I said to her.

"I'll be alright," she assured me.

"Well, just run me through whatever you can remember."

"Well, I went out with my friend Tiffany, along with two other of my girlfriends. We were celebrating Tiffany's birthday, so we went to the restaurant in the Westin Hotel, because that's where Heather had booked the party. We got there about seven-thirty and we didn't leave until about twelve midnight," Mrs. Monterale recited.

"Did you have anything to drink?" I asked.

"No, I didn't. Tiffany and Heather and Karen did, but I didn't."

I thought that was a little strange, and I could see that Mulder thought so too when I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but I decided not to question her about it, at least not for the moment.

"Anyway, I got home around twelve-thirty. It was dark, and everything was quiet when I got in." At this point her voice started to break, and a few tears slipped down her cheeks, but she managed to keep herself under control. "I went into the bedroom and I turned on the light, but Phil wasn't in bed, he wasn't in the bathroom. And then I smelled something metallic, and I don't know, I guess I started to panic. I'd always heard that's what a lot of blood smells like, metallic. But I didn't see any blood, but then I looked on the other side of the bed, and, and, and I saw Phil. He was just laying there, and there was all this blood. I started screaming, and I couldn't stop screaming. It had to be some sort of nightmare, b-b-but it wasn't," she whimpered, and then she started crying softly.

Tiffany crossed over to the sofa and took Alexis in her arms, gently stroking her back and comforting her.

After a few minutes, Alexis had herself back under control, and Mulder asked, "Can you remember which way the, what position Phil was in when you saw him on the floor."

"He was lying on his face, and his arms and legs were spread eagle," Alexis sniffed, wiping her eyes.

"Thanks, that helps," he said.

"Well, that's all I have for now," I said, looking at Nicole and Mulder to see if they had anything. They both shook their heads, and I said, "If we have any more questions, can we reach you here?"

"Yes, yes of course."

"Thanks for you help. And we're very sorry for your loss."

Mrs. Monterale nodded, and then Nicole said we'd show ourselves out.

"If I were you," said Mulder as we stepped out into the warm afternoon sunshine, "I'd put Mrs. Monterale at the top of my suspect list."

"Because she could tell us what position the body was in," Nicole declared.

"Yep. People who have a traumatic experience usually can't remember specific details without some sort of help, and she could remember specific details about the body."

"Mulder, just because she could remember those details doesn't mean she killed her husband," I disagreed and both Mulder and Nicole looked at me questioningly. "It's not a given standard that everyone can't remember specific details."

"Look Scully, she had motive, means, and opportunity," Mulder reasoned.

"Also, the fact that Monterale was in the bedroom, and lying face down beside the bed suggests that he knew his killer, and that he wouldn't ever suspect the person if he was in the same room with them," added Nicole. "He was facing away from the killer when he was shot."

I studied Mulder's face, and his expression told me that was the position he took. I gave a silent sigh. Once again, he and I were on opposite sides of a theory, and this time he had all the evidence to support his theory. But didn't my gut feeling count for something? Maybe all the evidence was against Mrs. Monterale, but I didn't believe she had killed her husband. However, I wasn't going to stand on a hot, sunny sidewalk in the middle of down town Atlanta and argue with my partner about who might be right.

"I'd like to talk the coroner who performed the autopsy," was the only thing I said.

"Sure, definitely," Nicole motioned for us to get into the car, and we headed through the afternoon traffic to the city morgue.

It never failed to amaze me that no matter where I went, every morgue was basically the same. They all had the same basic interior design, the same lighting. They all sounded the same, and basically the same type of people worked there. And they all had the same smell: antiseptically sterile. There actually wasn't a whole lot to smell except chemicals, but there in a way you could almost smell death. It was more psychological than anything.

Nicole told us the chief medical examiner had done the autopsy, and that he was waiting to talk to us. She led us down the quiet halls to his office, and a short, round man answered the door at her knock.

"Dr. Burke, Special Agents Mulder and Scully from the FBI," she introduced us, and the man held out his hand with a smile.

"Agents, I'm Dr. Cal Burke. Nice to meet you both. I presume you want to look at the body and the autopsy report?" he asked as he pumped our hands rapidly.

"Yes, we would," I replied, and he smiled again.

"Follow me please."

The truth be told, Dr. Burke reminded me a little of Frohike, except he wasn't as, well, crude. He actually seemed a little shy.

He was very quick with his hands though, I noticed, as he pulled out the drawer Mr. Monterale was on. Very quick, but very precise.

Dr. Burke handed me the folder with the autopsy report, and then stood back and watched us as we looked at the body. He stood there, blinking owlishly from behind huge, thick-rimmed glasses, and every once in a while he would point out something he thought was of importance.

"So according to your report," Mulder said, "Mr. Monterale was killed sometime between twelve and twelve-thirty?"

"That's right," Dr. Burke stated. "And every one of those six bullets hit him. One of the bullets nicked his left lung; the second one nicked his esophagus and shattered his breastbone on its exit from his body. The third bullet passed through his back and chest muscles, and the fourth bullet grazed his right kidney. The fifth bullet actually lodged in his right shoulder socket. By all rights, the man should've been dead by that fifth bullet, but he wasn't. It was the sixth and final bullet that killed him. It passed through the right side of his thigh, just about in the middle, hitting the femoral artery, and lodging in the femur. The blood loss is what killed him, and it was several minutes before he died."

Both Mulder and Nicole's eyes were wide, and I was even rather amazed. The man had been one tough guy.

"Just from what you told me, that shooting is pretty erratic, all over the place," Mulder said, and Nicole nodded in agreement.

"Well, I don't profile killers, I just find out what type of damage they did. But I'd hazard a guess to say whoever killed Mr. Monterale didn't have very good aim, or they didn't know what they were doing," Dr. Burke remarked dryly.

"I'd have to agree," I said.

We asked a few more questions, and then we all headed outside. Mulder was shaking his head, and Nicole raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"What?" she asked.

"This doesn't look good for Mrs. Monterale," he replied.

"No it doesn't," she agreed. "But I don't want to do anything until I have some more evidence."

"That's fine by me, but how much more evidence do we need?"

"Well, a murder weapon would be nice."

"Yeah, it would."

As they were talking, a thought suddenly struck me, and I asked almost sharply: "Did you test Mrs. Monterale's hand for gun shot residue?"

"Our forensics team did," Nicole informed me.

"Was the test positive?"

"No, it wasn't."

My eyes widened at this news. It hadn't been positive? And Nicole was just about ready to arrest Mrs. Monterale? Suddenly, certain things weren't making any sense to me.

"It wasn't positive?" I repeated incredousley. "Then how can you make all these assumptions?"

"I'm not making assumptions, Agent Scully. She probably washed her hands before calling the police. She certainly had time to hide the weapon in a place we haven't found. There's enough crime shows on television for her to realize that we would probably test for GSR when we got there, so she washed her hands."

"Did you test her clothing?"

"We took the clothes she was wearing back to the lab, and they tested."

"Did you find any GSR?"

"The lab hasn't called us yet."

I shook my head again in disbelief. This was all moving too fast in one direction and without enough evidence. Nicole was ready to be judge, jury and executioner, as well as investigator. And I was afraid Mulder was buying into the whole thing too.

"Look," I said slowly. "I know a lot of evidence points to Mrs. Monterale, but I would be more comfortable if we slowed down a little, and weren't so hasty in our judgments."

"Sure, we can slow down. And I'll be the first to admit that we are being hasty with the investigation, but there are a lot of reasons for that," Nicole admitted. "We don't want the press getting a hold of this and running away with it. I want it to be a clean investigation, but you're right, it does need to slow down and look at other possibilities."

Now I was even more disbelieving. In all the years I had ever worked with local law enforcement, I think this was the first time someone actually agreed that a federal agent was right without an argument. I managed to recover myself quickly though.

"Thank you," I said politely.

"Now, what happens next?" asked Mulder.

"Well, I think you two should probably get checked into your rooms and get yourselves a rental car."

"That's sound like a plan," Mulder agreed, and I nodded too.

So Nicole drove us to the hotel where we would be staying for the remainder of our time in Atlanta. It was more like a motel, but since it was just outside of downtown Atlanta it was about ten stories high.

Mulder and I checked in and were told we had adjoining rooms on the tenth floors. Nicole followed us up to our rooms, and sat in the chair in Mulder's room while we got settled in. Every once in a while, as I unpacked, I would glance through the open door at Mulder and Nicole. It seemed to me that they were discussing things other than the case because they were smiling, and occasionally, Nicole would laugh softly. At one point it looked like Mulder told her one of his jokes, and she found it funny. Yep, they were flirting. If a woman found one of Mulder's jokes funny enough to laugh at, then she had at least a small crush on him. I had seen enough of that over the years to know the signs and symptoms.

"Hey Mulder," I said coming into his room, "we need to get a rental car so that it won't cause problems when we need to split up."

"Yeah, we do. Nicole, do you know where the car rental is?"

"Sure. If you want, I'll take you guys there," she offered.

"That'd be great."

Nicole drove us out to a car rental shop, and we picked out our standard sedan, and signed for it. Then we had a little meeting in the parking lot.

"So, what next?" Mulder asked.

"Well, you guys are the Feds; do you wanna call the shots?" Nicole countered.

"Well, it's your town and investigation."

"But I called you guys into help."

"You tell us what you want our help with."

Now I couldn't help but roll my eyes. This was one of those sappy, "You hang up, No you hang up first" conversations. I decided that if neither of them were going to call it, I was.

"If Mr. Monterale had any business offices here in Atlanta, I'd like to take a look around in them," I told them. "Actually, while I'm at it, I'd like to go over his business transactions from the last month."

"Well, the only office Mr. Monterale has in Atlanta is his headquarters for his import/export business; Impo-Expo Inc," Nicole informed me.

"Then let's start there. I'd also like to talk to some of his associates and employees."

"That can be arranged."

"Good. Let's go."

"Uh, Scully," Mulder interrupted, and he looked at his watch rather pointedly. "It's already going on seven in the evening, and it's been a long day. Most people have probably gone home by now, or they're getting ready to. Maybe we should check Impo-Expo in the morning. 'Sides, I'm getting hungry."

I sighed, but I knew Mulder was right. People would have probably already gone home, and the ones still there would most likely be more open to talking in the morning, not when they were getting ready to go home.

"Yeah. We can go there first thing in the morning," I agreed.

"Sounds like a good plan to me," said Nicole. "Now, how about I take ya'll to get something to eat. I know this really nice restaurant near the precinct house; it's mostly cops there. It has a buffet, plus it's near your motel. And they serve breakfast."

"Alright. We'll follow you in our car," Mulder told her.

"I'm driving," I said, taking the keys off the hood of the car before he could. If I drove, I could concentrate on that instead of Mulder trying to convince me that Mrs. Monterale was the killer.

As soon as I was driving, Mulder started talking about everything that pointed towards Mrs. Monterale, but all I did was nod occasionally and give a brief, "Mm-hmm." Fortunately, it wasn't that long of a drive to the restaurant Nicole was taking us too, so I didn't have to do too much nodding and mumbling.

Nicole was right about the restaurant being nice. It was clean, and it didn't have a bad smell like some of the other restaurants I had been in before. There were tables and booths, and stools at the counter. The place had a cozy atmosphere.

"Do you want a booth or a table?" Nicole asked.

"Booth." "Table." Mulder and I spoke simultaneously, and Nicole chuckled.

"I think we should get a table," I said. "That way someone won't be in somebody else's way."

"Scully, I think a booth would be more private. That way we can discuss the case," Mulder disagreed.

"Well, it kinda looks like we have no choice but to get a booth," Nicole interjected, as she looked around. "I think all the tables are full."

Mulder was standing right next to me, and when it turned out that we had to get a booth anyway, I felt his whole body smile. But when he sat down on one side of the table, Nicole sat opposite of him. When I sat next to him, I could feel his disappointment. I knew his disappointment wasn't visible to Nicole, but it was to me, and that was because of all the time we spent together.

We ordered our food, and it didn't surprise me that Mulder picked the most artery-clogging meal on the menu. But it surprised me when Nicole ordered the same thing as he had: a double cheeseburger with bacon and fried onions and mushrooms, and fries. I always thought his choice of food was a little disgusting, but apparently Nicole shared his penchant for such things.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mulder raise an eyebrow when he heard me order a salad with chicken on it, and it irked me a little. He teased me about my decision to eat healthy food, but if he knew what was good for him, he'd better keep his mouth shut around Nicole.

While we waited for our food to arrive, Mulder asked Nicole how long she had been a detective.

"Almost seven years," she replied. "I was a patrol cop for three years before I became a detective."

"Do you have a partner?" I asked.

"No, not at the moment. My last partner was two years ago, but he got married and moved to Tallahassee. Since then I decided it was just easier to fly solo."

"I've always thought it was good to have a partner," I said. "You know, someone to watch your back."

"Well, it's probably best to have one in the FBI, but here, I can call for backup. When you guys are on assignment, it's generally just you," she commented. "By the way, how long have you two worked together?"

"Five years," Mulder replied, and Nicole's eyes widened.

"Five years? So, Agent Scully, Mulder's been your partner for almost the entire time you've been in the FBI?"

"Yes."

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard of anyone wanting to stay partnered together for that long. Anybody I've ever known has split up after about a couple of years."

"I guess it's different with me and Scully," said Mulder.

"Different? How so?" asked Nicole, and I groaned inwardly. I had just known she would be one of these people that once they start asking questions, they just can't stop.

"Scully and me, well, we've been through a lot together; I guess we've learned to trust each other. And once you learn to trust someone, you just want to keep that part of your life as a known quantity," Mulder explained.

"I can see what you mean. So, I guess then you've always worked in Violent Crimes?"

Mulder and I looked at each other, silently wondering together if we should tell her that we had worked another unit before this. We could just tell her that we worked a different unit, without saying what that unit was, but we both knew she would ask what unit. Mulder shrugged, and I figured he would just tell her.

"We worked in a unit called the X-Files, up until a couple weeks ago," he told her, and her eyes widened.

"You worked in the X-Files? I know about that unit. It investigates the paranormal," she exclaimed excitedly, and then her eyes widened even more. "Wait a minute! _You're_ _the _Agent Fox Mulder? I've heard so much about you."

My eyebrow went up as right before our very eyes, Nicole turned from a calm, collected detective to an excited girl. I couldn't believe anybody would get that excited about meeting Spooky Mulder.

"Yeah, I'm Fox Mulder and I work in the X-Files," he said as if he was announcing to a therapy group that he was some sort of addict. "Well, I did until about three weeks ago. The X-Files was closed down when our office caught fire."

"Oh, I'm sorry, that's terrible."

"So how do you know about me and the X-Files anyway?"

"I've always been very interested in the paranormal, and I'm always on the lookout for UFOs and things like that. I've actually done quite a bit of research on aliens and things like that. I have both official reports from the Air Force on the Roswell crash. I'm always interested in any information about the paranormal, and anything like that," she explained. While she had been talking, a small grin had slowly spread across Mulder's face, and I felt my heart sink. It seemed like where ever we went, there was always something that connected us to the X-Files. I knew what the rest of the conversation was going to be about: little green men and flying saucers. Oh, right, little _gray_ men.

"You seem like you have a pretty big interest in this sort of thing," Mulder remarked, still grinning. "Why?"

"Well, when I was a kid, I lived down near the Okefenokee Swamp with my brother, and we used to go play out in the swamp." As Nicole began to talk to us about her childhood, Mulder seemed to grow more and more interested. "Anyway, one night, Mike and I were going out to fish for crawdads, and we saw this really bright light through the woods. At first we thought it was maybe somebody in the swamp with a light on their boat, but then it started to rise up through the trees. And then it got windy, sorta like a tornado. Leaves and sticks swirled around, and we heard this loud, well the only way to describe it is like a roar. Unfortunately, that's about all we got to see, because of the trees, but I'll always remember that. That's when I started to get interested in UFOs and aliens, and ever since then, researching them has been something like a hobby for me."

"Wow," Mulder exclaimed when Nicole had stopped. "Man, that's something else. Do you think maybe after this case is over I could take a look at the information you have?"

"Sure, I'd be glad to show it to you."

Mulder and Nicole continued to talk about all the paranormal things that I had learned about the past five years. It almost felt like I was back in the X-Files. And from what I heard, it sounded like Nicole was more qualified to work in the X-Files than I was. She and Mulder were discussing things I hadn't heard of. For someone who made a hobby out of this, she knew an awful lot about it.

We actually took about an hour to eat, because Nicole and Mulder were talking. I glanced at my watch discreetly. It was going on nine in the evening: time flew even when you weren't having fun. I looked at my watch again, only not as inconspicuously, and Mulder got the hint.

"Well, I think it's time we got back to the hotel. Thanks for showing us this place; they have good food and pretty good prices," he said.

"You're welcome. So, we meet here at eight in the morning, get breakfast and then head over to Impo-Expo?" Nicole asked.

"Sounds like a plan. Night Nicole."

"Night Mulder, Agent Scully."

"Goodnight," I said, picking up my purse and following Mulder to the counter. He paid for his food, I paid for mine, and then we headed back to the motel. It was a silent drive over, and the silence wasn't the most comfortable one.

We didn't say anything to each other as we stood in the elevator on the way up to our rooms, but somehow Mulder got the idea that he was invited into my room because he followed me inside.

"You're in the wrong room, Mulder," I said bluntly, but he just grinned and sprawled out on my bed.

"Well, our first real case outside of the X-Files and we still have something to connect us to the unknown," he remarked, and I rolled my eyes.

"I noticed," I said dryly. "It's my personal opinion that Detective Beaumont was trying to impress you."

Mulder frowned and raised himself up on his elbows. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Please Mulder. First she fed your ego, and then she started spouting off everything she knew about the paranormal. Notice she did most of the talking this evening."

"She was just excited about being able to talk to someone who knew a lot about her hobby."

"Well, Detective Beaumont sure knows a lot about her hobby."

"She said we could call her Nicole," Mulder pointed out.

"Mulder, she said _you_ could call her Nicole; she never said anything about me calling her Nicole. Notice she still calls me Agent Scully."

"Well, Scully, it's not like you told her she could call you anything else."

"That's right, I didn't. I think relations between people involved in investigations should be kept as professional as possible. And if that means calling people by their last name, then so be it," I stated firmly.

"Wow Scully, that's cold. What about you and me then? Should we call each other Agent Mulder and Agent Scully?"

I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head with a sigh. Now Mulder was acting like a kid, testing his limits.

"Mulder, you and I are friends. I'm talking about people we've just met. We should keep everything as professional as possible."

"You're starting to sound like some type of rule book, Scully. I know we should keep everything as professional as possible, but that doesn't mean we have to be formal and stiff. You work better with a person if you're both responding to a name you're comfortable with. There's nothing that says you can't be friends with the people you're working with."

"I know that Mulder, but there's a fine line between friendly and flirty."

Mulder sat up and studied me with a quizzical look, and then he cocked an eyebrow.

"Scully, I'm not flirting with Nicole. She and I are just being… friendly," he said, and flopped back down on the bed.

"I've seen flirting and I've seen friendly, and I know the difference. And this is flirting."

"Oh really. I was under the impression that flirting was a game that involved a lot of innuendo and talk that had two meanings."

"It might with you, Mulder, but with most people it just involves a little look here, a smile there, mostly just innocent friendly teasing."

"I think that's your version of flirting. And besides, flirting can't hurt anything. It doesn't mean anything."

I sighed softly and turned away. I knew it didn't mean anything, it never did, but that wasn't to say that it couldn't escalate to something more with Nicole and Mulder.

"Look," I said, turning back to face him, "please don't carried away. We're here to solve a case, not…"

"Not what?" Mulder asked me as I trailed off.

"Not get involved with a woman you probably won't see again after this case is over."

Mulder sat back up and ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He was looking at me, and a myriad of emotions were running across his face. I couldn't tell what they were, but one of them was definitely confusion.

"Scully, why are you so worried if I get involved with her?" he asked.

"I just want this to be as clean as possible. I don't want anything to tie us to this place after this case is over," I told him.

Mulder got off the bed and walked over to the window. He stood there for a few minutes, looking out at Atlanta. I heard him sigh softly, and then he looked back at me.

"Is something bothering you, Scully?"

The question caught me by surprise and my eyes widened. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"You've been edgy all day. It's like there's something bugging you. Are you alright?"

I could feel all my defenses going on red alert. Sure, a lot of things were bothering me, but I didn't want to discuss them with Mulder. I _couldn't_ discuss them with Mulder.

"I'm fine Mulder," I said evenly, and Mulder gave a tired frustrated groan.

"You could be in outer space without any oxygen, and you'd still say 'I'm fine, Mulder," he retorted.

"I am fine. I just don't want to talk about this anymore tonight. I'd like to get some sleep because we're going to have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who said Nicole was trying to impress me, that was you."

"Look, let's just drop it for the night."

"Fine by me."

Mulder headed for the door that connected our two rooms, but he stopped halfway to the door and looked back at me.

"Are you sure you're okay, Scully?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine. Goodnight Mulder."

"Night, Scully." He closed the door behind him and I gave a sigh. It was almost like we'd had a fight, but it was a really weird fight. I sank down on my bed with another heavy sigh. I was so tired. That was one of the things that bothered me. Well, it didn't bother me mentally, it just bothered me physically. Even though my cancer was in remission, I still hadn't fully recovered from it and the effects of the chemo. I tired easily, especially if I took long flights or didn't eat right.

I slowly started my preparations for bed, doing most of my rituals by rote. I was thinking about the case some, but mostly my mind was occupied by the exchange between Mulder and myself. There were so many reasons I didn't want Mulder to get involved with Nicole: and it was true that I wanted this to be as clean as possible, without any ties when we were finished. But there were other reasons that I hadn't shared with Mulder. A lot of those reasons I didn't even like to discuss with myself, but tonight my own words had made me realize that, well, I got jealous of the women Mulder got involved with. I guess, all along I knew that I was rather jealous, but I still didn't like to admit it to myself.

As I curled up in bed, I wondered what Mulder was doing. Probably watching television, or recording what he and Nicole had talked about during the evening. He never did sleep a whole lot.

I set my little travel alarm and drifted off to sleep, hoping I would wake rested in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews. I'm going to try to shorten the chapters, but it will be Scully POV for the rest of the story since most of the story is already written. It's just a matter of editing and updating, and I have to college work to finish up first so chapters will be a little slow in coming. Anway here is the second chapter.

Viorna

Disclaimer still applies. I don't own anything of the X-Files.

Chapter 2

An incessant beeping was pounding away at me, and I sat up with a jerk. It was my little travel alarm clock with the big voice, and at the moment, I wanted to throw it across the room. What idiot had set the alarm for six in the morning; oh, that's right, me. I turned it off and flopped back down on the pillows with a groan. I was still tired and I wanted to go back to sleep, but we had a case to work so I needed to get going.

There was a knock at the inner door, and I dropped my hand over my eyes. That knock meant Mulder was already up and about, ready to get on with the case.

"Yes?" I called, and the door opened and Mulder stepped in.

"Morning Scully," he greeted me, cheerfully. Too cheerfully for early morning in my opinion. "You better get moving."

"Why? We don't meet Detective Beaumont until eight," I said, sitting up in bed. "That means I have an hour and forty-five minutes to get ready."

"No you don't. Nicole just called me, and she said if we wanted to talk the vice-president of Impo-Expo, we better hurry, because he's leaving for a business trip at seven-fifteen," Mulder informed me.

I sighed and looked Mulder over. He was shaved and dressed. It was disturbing.

"Don't you ever sleep Mulder?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I sleep, just not as much as some people."

"What's that remark supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything. Boy, you have an attitude when you don't have coffee."

I glared at Mulder, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead he handed me a cup of coffee. It smelled like it was the good kind, and I took a sip.

"What's this for?" I wanted to know.

"To put you in your usual mood," he told me. The bed shifted lower as he sat down on the edge.

I decided to let that remark slide since I wasn't in the frame of mind to argue with him. Besides, the coffee Mulder brought was starting to kick in, and I was already feeling more awake. Sure, it was an artificial feeling of being rested, but I wasn't going to complain since it was that or really feel tired.

"We have to meet Nicole in about a half hour. Can you be ready by then?"

"I'm always ready Mulder."

"Well, I'll be waiting."

Mulder left my room, and I decided I'd better hurrying. To give myself credit, I was ready in fifteen minutes, and three minutes later we were on our way to the restaurant we had eaten at last night.

Nicole was already there, standing next to her car. She was as impeccably and as stylishly dressed as yesterday, but this morning her brown hair was down up in a French braid, instead of just loose like it had been yesterday.

"Morning Mulder, Agent Scully," she greeted us with a bright smile. "Sorry to rush you but we have to get to the airport to talk to Charles Callahan before he leaves for New York."

"Hey, no problem," Mulder said. "We're used to fast starts all the time."

"Good. I think breakfast will have to wait until after we talk to him."

"Then let's get going," I said, and we got back into our car.

It was slow going to the airport because of the morning commuters. And it seemed like we hit every red light in the city, but we finally made it to Atlanta International.

"How do we know where to find Mr. Callahan?" I asked as we headed through the doors.

"I know which flight he's taking. I talked to his secretary and she told me," Nicole explained.

"Oh, that's good. I was afraid we were going to wander aimlessly around the airport, looking for a needle in a hay stack," I remarked.

We found Mr. Callahan, and showed him our badges, saying that we'd like to talk to him a few minutes before he left. He agreed and we found an empty booth in one of the coffee shops.

"I only have about ten minutes before I board, but I'll help you all I can," he said as we sat down.

"Thank you Mr. Callahan," Mulder said. "You knew Mr. Monterale for a long time, right?"

"That is correct. We were very good friends as well as business partners."

"When did you first meet?" Nicole asked.

"Back in 1987."

"Did you know about Mr. Monterale's run-ins with the law?" I asked.

"Yes, I did, but I had my private detectives do some research on him, and I came to the same conclusion the courts had; that they were right in dropping the charges."

"Mr. Callahan, during the years that you knew Mr. Monterale, did anyone he'd ever had prior dealings with ever threaten him in anyway?" I asked next.

"Not to my knowledge. Most people who met him liked him, and he never mentioned anything to indicate he was having problems with anyone he knew."

"Alright," said Nicole. "One more question, and then we'll let you catch your flight. Where were you on the night Mr. Monterale was killed?"

Mr. Callahan immediately bristled. His eyes grew dark, and when he spoke his voice was something of a growl. "Are you insinuating that I would kill my friend and business partner? I highly resent that question and train of thought," he growled out.

"Please don't take offense Mr. Callahan," I said quickly. "It's just a routine question that we have to ask everyone."

He relaxed slightly, and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, I just, I'm still upset about Phil's death, and well, he was my friend," he explained. "I took my wife and kids out to eat. It was my son's sixteenth birthday, so we went out to look at some cars, and then we had dinner at his favorite restaurant, the Paper Lantern. It's a Japanese restaurant near the park. After that, we went home."

"Well, I think that's all for now. Thanks for talking with us," said Mulder.

"No problem," Mr. Callahan said, standing up to leave, then he sat back down. "There is something else. I don't know if this has any relevance, but I think Phil was having an affair. He never said anything specifically, but he said there were some things that needed to be cleared up."

Mulder and Nicole and I all exchanged glances, and then Nicole asked, "What do you mean by some things?"

"Well, he said he was having some problems with Alexis, and that it didn't have to do with work."

"I see. Well, thanks for your help."

"Right. Here, if you need to talk to me about anything else, here's my cell phone number."

We watched Mr. Callahan disappear through the throngs of people to his gate, and then Mulder said, "Well, this throws a new twist into things."

"Maybe, maybe not," Nicole mused. "This could be motive for Mrs. Monterale killing her husband. She finds out about him having an affair, and she's really angry about it, so she kills him."

"Or maybe," I interjected, "he decided to break off the affair, and the woman he was having the affair with killed him. You know, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'."

Nicole and I were looking at each other, and I could feel tension in the air between us. We disagreed about this case, and I knew that sooner or later, we would probably butt heads. Hopefully, Mulder wouldn't get in the way.

"That can work either way," she said. "His wife could be the woman scorned."

"Or maybe he didn't have an affair, or if he did, it has nothing to do with his murder," I countered.

"You know, we better get going, we have a lot to do," Mulder interrupted, and we both looked at him.

"We are working on the case Mulder," I told him, but he just raised an eyebrow. "We're discussing the different scenarios."

"Mulder's right," Nicole said, "we should get going. We have a lot to do."

A flash of anger rolled through me after Nicole spoke. I knew I was being unreasonable, but it felt like she was trying to come between me and Mulder, and I resented that very much.

I pulled myself as tall as I could and I stepped closer to Nicole. I wasn't trying to be threatening, but I wanted to make it very clear to her that I wasn't going to agree with her and her theories, even if my partner did.

"I don't believe Mrs. Monterale killed her husband," I said firmly, "affair or no affair. I believe it was someone else, and I intend to find out who."

Mulder crooked a finger and motioned for me to follow him.

"Look Scully, in most murders where a husband and wife are involved, the killer is the spouse. That's just the way it is," he said to me in an undertone.

"Mulder I know that," I returned in the same undertone. "But she didn't do it."

"How do you know that Scully? All the evidence points to her."

"I just know Mulder. And what evidence do we have anyway? It's all circumstantial."

"Yeah, but pretty good circumstantial evidence, don't ya think?"

"What's with you? You're so willing to buy into Detective Beaumont's theory that you're ignoring any other options."

"I'm not ignoring other options; I'm just focusing on the most likely one."

"I thought you told me that the obvious isn't always the truth."

"But sometimes it is, and I think that this is one of those times."

I sighed in exasperation, and shook my head. This wasn't going anywhere good. We were getting frustrated with each other and we were wasting time. And we would probably continue wasting time until we came up with a doable solution. Mulder must've realized the situation too, because he said, "Look, how 'bout we split up. You follow your lead, and we'll follow ours."

"Okay, that's sounds like it might work," I agreed.

We ran the plan by Nicole and she agreed whole heartedly, and then I wasn't so sure. She was going to be alone with Mulder; who knew what was going to happen? Oh well, there was nothing I could do about. I only hoped Mulder would just stick to the case and not let his hormones get the best of him.

We decided we would meet up that evening at The Patrol Café, probably around seven or so, and then I took the rental car and headed for Impo-Expo.

It was a tall, very reflective building, and it nearly blinded me when I got out of the car and looked it over. There should be laws against buildings that shiny, I thought as I walked in and headed for the executive floor of Impo-Expo.

"May I help you," I heard a female voice ask when I stepped off the elevator, and I turned around to Tiffany Perkins standing there, looking at me with her dagger shooting blue eyes.

"Yes, I here to speak to the junior vice-president of Impo-Expo," I told her in my best no nonsense voice.

"What is your business with the junior vice-president?" she countered.

I didn't have any patience for this type of run around, so I decided to end it right then and there.

"May I remind you that this is a murder investigation and if you continue to thwart my efforts, I will arrest you for obstruction of justice," I warned her, and she seemed to deflate somewhat. Arrest for obstruction of justice might have been a little overboard, but at the moment I was afraid that was the only thing that would've worked.

"Alright," she said, "but you'll have to wait about a half hour, since there is a meeting right now."

"Thank you Miss Perkins."

She gave a nod and a stiff little smile as she walked off, and I gave an inward sigh of relief. I didn't want to have to arrest her, but as it did turn out, it was the only thing that convinced her to cooperate with the investigation.

I made myself comfortable in one of the large armchairs in the waiting area, and then went over my notes, and thought about what I would need to ask the junior vice-president. But then, without my consent, my thoughts began to wander to Mulder and Nicole. What were they doing right now? I knew they were working, but just exactly how much flirting was going on? Then another thought hit me, and I felt like a hypocrite. As much as I pretended not to approve of it, I really enjoyed it when Mulder flirted with me. And I knew on some occasions that I would flirt right back. But I hated it with a vengeance when he flirted with other women. I guess that meant I was jealous, and that made me feel like even more of a hypocrite. There was no logical reason for me to be jealous of the women in Mulder's life; well, no logical reason except for one I didn't like to think about.

"Agent Scully?" a voice broke through my thoughts and I looked up to see Tiffany standing there.

"Yes?"

"If you'll come with me, the meeting is over."

I followed her down a long hall to a large, wood paneled room, with a conference table in the center. The one wall was entirely windows, which contrasted sharply with the dark paneling.

As I entered the room a young woman stood up from where she had been sitting at the head of the oval conference table. She gave a bright smile and held out her hand.

"I'm Heather Bartlow, I'm the junior vice-president of Impo-Expo," she said. "What can I do for you?"

My eyes widened a little in surprise. This young woman was the junior vice-president? She couldn't be much more than twenty-seven or so. I guess that's why it's called _junior _vice-president.

"I'm Agent Scully, I'm with the FBI. I'd like to talk to you concerning the murder of Mr. Monterale," I told her.

"Oh certainly. I'll answer any questions I can."

We took a seat and I got out my little notebook, and then said, "Now this first question is a routine question, I'm required to ask it, so please don't take offense." She nodded and I went on. "On the night that Mr. Monterale was killed, where were you?"

"I was at the Westin Hotel Restaurant, celebrating my birthday with some of my friends."

"What time did you get there?"

"Around eight. My girlfriends had already arrived."

"Alright, and what time did you leave?"

"Well, we all left around twelve in the evening."

"And who was there at the party with you?"

"Alexis Monterale, Tiffany Perkins, and Karen Chan, and of course myself. Oh, and Mr. Callahan stopped in around eleven thirty."

That was news to me. Mr. Callahan had never mentioned that when he was talking to us and that struck a little warning light in the back of my mind.

"What time did he leave?" I asked, making sure I kept my voice from showing any surprise.

"He left when we did."

"Now, did you all go home separately?"

"Well, Karen, Tiffany and I took a cab together, since we all live near each other, but Mr. Callahan took Alexis home. Her car had gotten a flat tire, and he said her place was on the way to his."

That was another thing Mr. Callahan had failed to mention. I wondered what else I would find out along the way.

"Did you all have anything to drink?"

"Everyone except Alexis and Mr. Callahan had something to drink."

I nodded and glanced over my notes, and then asked Miss Bartlow if I could go over Impo-Expo's business records, and personnel files, and she agreed willingly.

That took me the rest of the day, and it was very tedious. And fruitless too. I didn't turn up anything that pricked my interest, or indicated to me that it was some kind of revenge killing for a business deal gone wrong. More and more it was looking as if Mulder and Nicole were right; Mrs. Monterale had killed her husband, either because he was having an affair, or for the money. But how could I ignore my own instincts? I just didn't think she had killed him, even if all the evidence said she did.

I also interviewed some of Mr. Monterale associates and employees, but no one could tell me anything that was of any more use than the files.

"Have you found anything that will help you?" Miss Bartlow asked. I jumped slightly; I hadn't heard her come up behind me.

"I haven't anything one way or the other, but I do appreciate you letting me go through your records," I told her. "I do have another question for you though."

"Well, I'll be glad to answer it if I can."

"Thank you. Now I know you probably didn't know too much about Mr. Monterale's personal life, but do you know if he was having an affair?"

Miss Bartlow's eyes widened and her face flushed slightly. She licked her lower lip nervously and then said, "Well, Alexis talked to me in confidence about something, and I don't think she would appreciate it if I went around airing her personal problems."

"I've already been told that it was suspected that he was, so if you can confirm or deny that information, it would be helpful."

Miss Bartlow let out a heavy sigh and sank into a chair. "Alexis told me she thought Phil was having an affair. She told me she found a bracelet in his office drawer here at work. She knew it didn't belong to her, and she showed it to us, and it didn't belong to any on us."

"Who's us?"

"Me, Karen, and Tiffany. She also said she smelled perfume on his clothing, and it wasn't her perfume, you know. And there were little things, you know. Sometimes you can just tell."

Suddenly I felt a twinge of sympathy for Mrs. Monterale. It had never happened to me personally, but I could imagine that it was very emotionally painful for her to find out that her husband was cheating on her. I knew if she killed her husband, it didn't excuse her, but I couldn't help but empathize with her.

I nodded slowly, and then stood up. "Thank you Miss Bartlow. I appreciate your help in this investigation. Now, where can I reach you if I need to?"

"Here's my number and my apartment address. Also, my cell phone number. I'll be glad to help you anyway I can."

"Thank you."

I turned to leave, but Miss Bartlow put a hand on my arm and stopped me. Her eyes were very sorrowful and when she spoke her voice was trembling.

"I know you think Alexis killed her husband, but believe me, she didn't. Even if it looks like she did," she whispered.

I didn't reply, and just pressed my lips into a thin line. I wanted to believe she was right. I didn't believe Alexis had killed her husband either, but unfortunately, the evidence was piling up against her.

Miss Bartlow gave me a small smile and walked quickly out the door, leaving me to get on with the investigation.

I had just stepped off the elevator when my cell phone rang, and I hurriedly answered it.

"Hello?" I said, pulling out my notebook.

"Hey Scully, it's Mulder," my partner greeted me. "Where are you?"

"I'm just leaving Impo-Expo, why?"

"We're at the crime lab, going over some of the evidence that was found in the apartment."

"Did you find anything?"

"No, not yet. How 'bout you?"

"I didn't find anything in the records, and I didn't get much from the interviews," I told him. "Why don't we meet somewhere so I can go over what I found with you and Detective Beaumont?"

Mulder chuckled and I was tempted to ask him why he had, but I thought better of it, and decided to ignore it.

"We can't make it right now, but we'll see you around seven or so, at the Patrol Café," he said.

I looked at my watch; five in the evening, so I had about two hours I had to wait.

"Alright, I'll meet you there," I said, and hung up. I had just thought of something I could do in the mean time.

I drove through the evening rush hour traffic, back to Mr. Monterale's apartment. When we had been there earlier, I hadn't gotten a chance to look around as thoroughly as I wanted, but now I could observe the scene without interruption.

The apartment was quiet, almost peaceful feeling with the afternoon sun filtering in the windows. It almost looked like it was just an empty apartment, but if one looked closer, fingerprint dust could be seen, and of course there was the large blood stain the bedroom. There was also an underlying creepy feeling.

I snapped on a pair of gloves and went through the apartment slowly, scanning the rooms to see if we had missed anything the first time around. I didn't see anything in the bedroom, or the bathroom. The living room combined dining room didn't offer any clues either, and Mr. Monterale's study was just as clean.

I was still a little in awe of the kitchen. It was the size of Mulder's whole apartment… neater, too. Copper pots and pans were hanging above an island. The table in the cozy breakfast nook was overshadowed by a large Boston fern, and there were several other plants hanging in macramé hangers. The cupboard doors were made of glass so that a person could see the Fiesta and copper cook ware, and the very chic dining sets.

After going through several cupboards, I was starting to believe that there wasn't going to be anything to find here. I moved on to the stove, then the dishwasher, and then I looked in the refrigerator. I heaved a sigh: nothing. I opened the cabinet under the sink and turned on my flashlight. The cleaning chemicals and sponges and scrub brushes were lined up neatly, and the cabinet itself was practically spotless. Whoever did the Monterales' cleaning did a very good job.

On instinct I ran my hand up along the pipes, and stopped with an intake of air as my hand hit something cold. It didn't feel like it a pipe; it felt like a handgun. Carefully, I felt along a little further. It definitely felt like a gun, and a big one at that.

I stuck my head inside and craned my neck around for a look. There, wedged between the crook of the pipe and the sink was what looked to be a .44 Magnum. I quickly hit the number for Mulder's speed dial.

"Mulder," he answered on the fifth ring.

"It's Scully. I think I found the murder weapon."

"You did? Where?" he asked excitedly. I could here Nicole in the background, faintly asking "What? Did she find the gun?" "Yeah," I heard him say, and then he said to me, "Where are you Scully?"

"I'm at the Monterales' apartment. The gun is in the cabinet under the sink, stuck between the pipe and the sink. It's a .44 Magnum."

Mulder relayed the information to Nicole, and then he said, "Nicole said they checked there, and the gun wasn't there. She checked that spot very thoroughly herself, nothing there."

"Well, there's definitely something there now."

"Okay, we have a forensics team on its way, to collect any evidence there might be. We'll be there shortly."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

I waited out in the hall for Mulder and Nicole and the forensics team to arrive. Things were getting stranger by the minute, and something wasn't setting right with me. I couldn't place my finger on it, but it felt like there was something more amiss than just the usual.

About a half hour after we hung up, Mulder and Nicole showed up, along with three men who wore jackets that said forensics, and two police officers. They began processing the scene all over again, right from the door.

The one man introduced himself to me as Rick Lawden, and then asked if I had touched anything without gloves. I told him that I had broken the police tape, and that I had touched the doorknob, but that was it. He nodded as if he were satisfied and then went on with his processing.

"Well," began Mulder, "someone was here after us."

"Yeah, the gun hid itself," I said, and Mulder gave me a bemused frown. I ignored it and went on. "The tape wasn't broken when I got here, so whoever put the gun in the cabinet peeled back the tape."

"It looks like we're dealing with someone who's pretty smart and intent on not getting caught," Nicole remarked.

"You said you had some stuff to tell us," said Mulder and I nodded.

"Yeah." I repeated what I had learned from Miss Bartlow, and as I talked Mulder and Nicole kept exchanging glances. From their looks, I knew they thought it was now a slam dunk case against Mrs. Monterale. That ignited a spark of irritation with me, and unfortunately it showed in my voice.

"You know," I snapped, "you may think that Mrs. Monterale is the killer, but I don't think she is, and I am not willing to arrest her until we have solid evidence that she is."

"Hey, Scully, we're all on the same side here," Mulder chided in a condescending tone, and that only added fuel to my fire.

"We have enough to bring her in for questioning," Nicole stated. "You can sit it out if you want, but that's what we're doing." She gave me a look after she finished speaking, and then with a shrug of her shoulders, she headed down the hall.

Mulder watched her go and then he turned to me. His eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. All of a sudden he looked very tired, and I felt as tired as he looked.

"Scully, why are you fighting us on this?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration and tension. "We have enough evidence to arrest her."

"Mulder, if you can't understand this without me having to explain it to you, then I'm not going to discuss it with you." I was feeling peevish; well actually, irritated working on angry was more like it. I turned on my heel and started for the elevator, but Mulder grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

"I don't get it Scully, why don't you want to arrest her. All evidence leads to her. What's different about her that we can't arrest her?"

"How can you just blindly arrest her, simply because you think all the evidence points to her? Are you that blinded by Nicole?"

"Whoa! Whaddaya mean blinded by Nicole? Do you think that I'm so physically attracted to her that I would just give in to her opinion? I think you're the one who's blinded."

"Me? Blinded by what?" I hissed in a low voice, so that only he could hear.

"You never like it when we work with women. In fact you resent it. It's like your jealous or something."

My eyes widened in shock. I thought I had always hidden my feelings very well, but here was my partner thinking I was jealous. This was too close for comfort, and it was ground we had never tread on before.

"If you think that I'm blinded by jealousy, and that it affects my judgment on this case, well then Mulder, you're crazy." With that parting shot, I jerked my wrist free, and hurried for the elevator.

As the elevator door slid closed, I heard Mulder run up. "Scully wait!" he called after me, but it was too late as I was already on my way down.

"Where's Mulder?" Nicole asked when I exited the building.

"He's on his way down," I replied shortly, without giving her anymore of an explanation. I got into the car and put it into drive, pulling out into traffic before Mulder could reach me. I wasn't in any mood to talk to him at the moment. I knew if I did, I would say something that I would regret later on. I needed to give myself time to cool off. And sometimes the only way that I could cool off was to put some distance between Mulder and myself.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi! Thanks again for the reviews. Just so there's no misunderstanding, this is my first X-Files fanfic that wasn't abandoned prematurely, and it's the first one I've posted. Anyway, here's chapter 3: I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 3

It was about an hour before I saw Nicole and Mulder again at the police station. My heart dropped when I saw that they had Mrs. Monterale with them. I was being rather unreasonable, I knew, but until I had absolute proof I didn't want to arrest Mrs. Monterale.

I followed them into an interrogation room, and leaned up against the wall while Mulder and Nicole seated themselves across from Mrs. Monterale. She wore a guarded expression, and kept twisting her hands in her lap.

"Should I call my lawyer" she asked tautly.

"We just wanna talk," Mulder answered her in a calm, disarming voice, but she didn't seem to buy it.

"I think I should call my lawyer," Mrs. Monterale said, shaking her head. "I've heard enough and read enough to know that for some insane reason you think I killed my husband."

"Mrs. Monterale," interjected Nicole, "We aren't charging you with anything. We simply want some answers. See, we've been mislead about a lot of things, and maybe you can clear it up for us."

"I didn't kill Philip;" she stated, looking from one person to another. I could see panic in her eyes, and I was even more convinced that this was a mistake.

"Why don't you explain why you never mentioned that Charles Callahan stopped by the birthday party for Heather Bartlow," Nicole continued.

"We just didn't tell you because that would've put Charlie outside of his home for a period of time where he didn't have an alibi."

"Why didn't you tell us that Mr. Callahan drove you home?" asked Mulder.

"It didn't seem like it was important. Besides, I've seen enough cop shows to know that you might've thought it was group effort. It could've hurt us both. But we didn't kill him: I didn't kill him. I didn't have a reason to kill him."

"See, that's another place where you're wrong," Mulder told her, looking up from his notes. "We were told that you thought he was having an affair with another woman."

Mrs. Monterale's eyes widened and her face went white. She opened her mouth, swallowed and closed it again with a gulp. Then she said in a low voice, "How, who told you that?"

"Charles Callahan," Nicole informed her, "and Heather Bartlow."

As Mrs. Monterale heard that her eyes widened even more and her face turned another shade of white. She brought her shaking hands up to her mouth and then clasped them in front of her. I could almost feel the fear and the humiliation coming from her.

"I thought I had told Heather that in confidence," she murmured, then looked up at us. "Please, you have to believe me, I didn't kill him. I loved him. I knew he was having an affair, yeah I knew that. He confessed to me that it was over, that he wasn't going to see her anymore. He said he wanted to start over with me, that we'd work things out."

She was looking at us, pleading with her eyes. Tears started filling them, and then slipped down her cheeks.

"I never killed him," she insisted, as more tears slid down her cheeks and her voice shook. "I loved him. I still do."

"Mrs. Monterale, it just looks a little suspicious that you're thirty years younger than him, sole beneficiary of his fortune now that he's gone, and that he was having an affair. That's two very good motives," said Nicole.

"Yeah, and it wasn't a professional killing," Mulder stated. "It was very definitely a crime of passion. He was shot over and over again. The person who killed him didn't know what they were doing. He was shot six times, but it was the sixth shot that actually killed him."

Mrs. Monterale's face was dead white now, and she was looking from Mulder to Nicole with a horrified look. And then she looked up and her eyes met mine. It sent a pang straight to my heart, and I almost winced visibly. Her look asked, why was this happening?

"Alexis, we have enough evidence right now to arrest you, and with the two motives we have, you know…" Nicole trailed off, not finishing her statement, but it was clear what she had meant. Juries had convicted people with a lot less many times before.

"I'm done here. I can see that's there nothing I can say that will convince you that I did not kill him. I'm calling my lawyer," Mrs. Monterale said, her whole body stiffening as she rose from her seat and started for the door. Halfway there, she gave a little moan and collapsed.

I reached her before Mulder did, and I anxiously felt for a pulse. My fear ebbed a little when I felt a steady one. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mulder and Nicole, and if the situation had been different, I would have laughed at the looks on their faces. They were both clearly frightened that their questioning had caused this.

"Mulder, call an ambulance," I ordered, and then I felt a little bit of relief as Mrs. Monterale's eyes fluttered open. She blinked a couple of times and looked around with a rather dazed look, and then her eyes settled on me.

"Mrs. Monterale, how do you feel?" I asked gently, and she gave a little moan.

"Woozy, but I think I'll be okay," she said, starting up, but I gently stopped her.

"Don't get up just yet. I think you just passed out, but we called an ambulance to take you to the hospital," I told her.

"I don't need an ambulance."

I looked up as Nicole tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a blanket. Mrs. Monterale shook her head when she saw it.

"I don't need that. I just need to sit down for a little bit. This happened before, and if I just sit for a while, I'll be okay."

"Do you need something to eat?" I asked. "Is your blood sugar too low?"

"Could be. Maybe I should have something."

I turned to Nicole and asked her if she could get some orange juice, and she hurried off to find some. Mrs. Monterale indicated that she was feeling a little better, and she asked Mulder and me to help her to the chair.

"You guys can cancel the ambulance. I really don't need it," she protested.

"Mrs. Monterale, if this has happened before, then you really should get checked out," I advised.

She dropped her eyes and when I looked at her more closely, I could see that she was blushing slightly.

"I'm pregnant," she said, a little smile on her lips, and I found myself smiling back. Murder suspect or not, I was happy for her. And then I felt even more depressed. This baby was going to grow up without a father, and maybe with a mother in prison. I prayed silently that she wasn't guilty.

"Congratulations," I said. "And that's all the more reason to get checked out: just to be on the safe side."

She nodded, and then her eyes filled with tears again. "I didn't murder Phil. I loved him, and I wanted my baby to have a father. See, I grew up without my dad, and I didn't want that for my baby. When I confronted Phil about the affair, he confessed, and then when I told him that I was pregnant, he said he was so sorry that he had cheated on me. He said that he would end it, and that he would do anything to make it up to me," Mrs. Monterale said softly. "He really wanted kids, and he even started buying things for the baby's room. I never killed him. I never even thought about it. Please believe me."

We locked eyes, and at that moment there wasn't any doubt in my mind that she was innocent.

"I believe you," I replied, and she smiled.

"Thank you."

Nicole arrived with a small bottle of orange juice and handed it to Mrs. Monterale, who thanked her with a wan smile. Mulder said he had canceled the ambulance, but that he had called Tiffany Perkins and she was on her way to pick up Mrs. Monterale.

About a half hour later, Miss Perkins arrived and after shooting death glares at all of us, escorted Mrs. Monterale out of the police station.

We grouped at Nicole's desk to discuss everything that had just happened. Nicole shook her head sadly when Mulder told her that Mrs. Monterale was pregnant. I didn't say much, but I did make it clear that I still believed more firmly than ever that Mrs. Monterale was innocent.

"I dunno," Mulder said, rubbing his eyes, "maybe she is innocent. Maybe there's something we missed."

"Maybe we should see if we can find the other woman," suggested Nicole. "I'm mean, it did look like it was a crime of passion. He broke it off with the woman, and she killed him."

I felt like rolling my eyes. Hadn't I said that when we first heard that Mr. Monterale was having an affair? Mulder saw the look on my face, and he shrugged, as if to say, "Hey, what can I tell you?"

"I think we need to go back over our evidence and find what we missed," I said, choosing not to respond to the look. "There's got to be something that doesn't fit, or that we missed. I have a list of names of people that Mr. Monterale worked with; now I didn't find anything in their files, but maybe one of them has a record or something. Maybe somebody assaulted him or something like that."

"Well," said Mulder, "I guess we better get started, 'cause we've got a lot of looking to do."

"Maybe we should split up our resources," Nicole proposed, and Mulder and I nodded in agreement. "I'll get started on running the records for assault of some kind, and you two can start digging on those names."

"Sounds goods," Mulder agreed, and I nodded again. It was going to be tedious and tiring, but at the moment, it was all we had.

Mulder and I worked together, going through any and all records we could find on my list of names. I glanced at my watch when we started; it was about nine in the evening, and when I looked at it again, the hands were saying that it was going on one in the morning.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. A headache was pounding a steady rhythm behind my eyes: I just wanted to lay my head down a moment and rest. I looked at Mulder and sighed. He looked as tired as me. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was sticking out in all the wrong places, as if he had been pulling at it.

"Geez, I hope Nicole's having more luck than we are," he muttered flatly.

"Yeah, so do I," I sighed my agreement. "There's nothing here. You'd think that out of all those people that one of them would have something to give us a nibble."

"You'd think."

Suddenly Nicole popped in with a folder in her hand. She was tired and disheveled looking, but there was excitement there as well.

"I think I might've found something," she announced. "Five years ago, in 1994, Peter Monterale was arrested for aggravated assault on Philip Monterale. Philip pressed charges, but Peter only got probation. And just three days before Philip was killed, he and Peter had a huge fight in the plaza of Impo-Expo. It actually came to blows, and they had to call the cops to separate them. According to witnesses, Peter struck the first blow, so Philip pressed more charges."

"This does sound good," Mulder said, sitting up in his chair. "Got anything else?"

"Well," Nicole went on, "Peter was released on bail, and he was scheduled for a hearing tomorrow, but since his brother was killed, his lawyer got the court date was pushed back, and it's probable that the charges will be dropped."

"Well, since they don't have the "victim", Peter's lawyer is probably going to go for dismissal," said Mulder.

"Yeah, but if Philip was alive, and Peter was convicted, he might end up spending some time in jail because of all his other charges," Nicole remarked.

"What other charges?" asked Mulder, taking the file so that he could make copies.

"He's got several other dropped assault charges, one disturbing the peace charge, several drunken disorderly charges, and four reckless driving charges. He's gotten fined on just about all of these, nothing more, but it goes to show that he's a loose cannon with a temper," Nicole told us.

"So was Peter in Atlanta at the time of the murder?" I asked.

Nicole nodded with a grin and said, "Yes he was. I contacted the Westin Hotel, and they have a record showing that he didn't leave Atlanta until the morning after his brother's murder."

"I think we might have a new lead," Mulder remarked.

"Where's Peter living right now?" I asked.

"He lives on the family estate near Bond Swamp."

"Okay, we need to go talk to him," I said.

"Yeah, but it's a good day's drive out to where he lives, and we all need some rest," Nicole said. "I think we better get some sleep before we drive out there and talk to him."

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," chuckled Mulder, and I smiled. Sleep was a very good idea, and I wasn't going to argue with anyone on that point.

"Okay, we'll meet at the Patrol Café at eight in the morning."

"Right. Night Nicole."

"Night Mulder, Agent Scully."

I nodded sleepily and followed Mulder out to our car, and sank exhausted into the seat. My body felt like it had been through a fight, and I couldn't want to get into bed and go to sleep. I had trouble keeping my eyes open on the short drive back to our motel. My vision swam in and out of focus and when we walked into the building I swayed slightly. I saw Mulder looking at me, but he didn't say anything. I think that was best anyway, because if he had said anything I might have ignored him.

There was an uncomfortable silence between Mulder and myself while we rode up in the elevator to our floor. I felt like maybe I should apologize to him, but my pride kept telling me that it had been stepped on and that I didn't have to be the first one to make an overture for peace. Let Mulder be the mature one for a change. Why did I have to be mature and professional?

My sensible self kept yelling that I had to act professional and mature because I was, and even if Mulder's head got turned by every good looking woman that came down the pike, that didn't mean I should let it affect how I felt about the woman.

We didn't say good night to each other when we reached our rooms, but when the doors closed, I half expected a call from Mulder. When it didn't come, my heart sank. I hated being on the outs with Mulder. I got to thinking that maybe I should call him. It would be the right thing to do, and I knew I would feel better if I did. I lay there, fighting an internal battle and I almost came to a decision to call him, but before I could I was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi, here's another chapter. I will try to update a bit more regularly, now that my classes are over. Thanks for the feedback: I appreciate you alltaking the time to let me know that you're interested in my story. So enjoy the next chapter.

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 4

The next morning was dark and foggy, even at eight in the morning. It took us longer than expected to get out of Atlanta because of the fog and the traffic. We decided to take one vehicle, to save on gas money. Nicole took the first shift driving, while she and Mulder discussed the case. I didn't say much, but I did listen very attentively from the back seat.

As the miles rolled by, my eyes started to get heavy, and I had to fight to keep them open. Mulder and Nicole's voice started sounding like they were in a tunnel, drifting in and out. I desperately wanted to stay awake, so that Mulder wouldn't ask if I was alright. I was fine, I was just tired.

Suddenly the car lurched to a stop and I heard Mulder say, "Hey Scully, we're taking a rest." I jerked upright, trying to straighten my rumpled appearance.

"Oh, okay," I said, still feeling like I was on auto pilot. I climbed out of the car and stretched my back, and then walked around, waking up my legs.

We were at a rest stop along the highway, and I could see a soda machine beside the small building. I asked Mulder and Nicole if they wanted anything to drink: Mulder said he'd take a diet Coke, and Nicole said she wanted a diet Pepsi. I didn't hurry to get the sodas, because I needed time to wake and get the blood moving so that I wouldn't fall back asleep.

"Thanks," said Mulder when I handed him his soda.

"Yeah, thanks," Nicole echoed.

"No problem," I replied, taking the cap off of my bottle and taking a sip. The sugar in the soda helped to wake me up, and I realized I was running out of energy. I knew I should be more careful about letting my energy levels get too low.

"You wanna drive Scully?" Mulder asked as we got ready to hit the road again.

"Yeah, for a while."

He tossed me the keys and I caught them, then gave Mulder a small smile. He cracked a smile in return, and then I got in the car and started the engine. It eased my mind a little that Mulder didn't seem to be mad. Maybe we were okay.

I drove for about an hour, and then Mulder drove for the last hour. For the last leg of the trip, we were out in the country, heading into a very swampy and desolate looking area. There was moss hanging off the trees, and the woods were dark and full of shadows. We finally came to a large iron gate, between two great stone walls covered with dark green moss. Nicole checked to see if the gate was open, and despite the fact the gate creaked as it swung on its hinges, it opened easily.

The drive was gravel with a neatly mowed grass strip in the middle, and it was about a half mile up to the house. When the house finally came into view among the grand old trees, it reminded me of something out of Gone with the Wind. It was old, but it had an air of grandness and dignity about it. Vines hung from the balcony, and large old rose bushes framed the huge front porch with its big white columns. White curtains fluttered in the floor length windows, and white wicker chairs were seated strategically around a white wicker table on the porch. The whole place was absolutely lovely, but the damp, misty air gave it a spooky feeling.

We all walked slowly up the broad steps to the front door, and Mulder knocked sharply on the frame. When no one answered he rapped again, a little louder, and about minute later we could hear the loud clicking of rapidly approaching high heels on a wooden floor.

A blonde haired young woman peered through the screen curiously, her eyes wide and questioning. "Yes? How may I help you?" she asked.

We all pulled out our badges, and Mulder said, "I'm Agent Mulder, this Agent Scully, FBI, and this is Detective Beaumont, Atlanta Police. We here to talk to Mrs. Charlotte Monterale, is she's available?"

"Please come in," the woman, said, stepping aside so that we could enter. "If you'll just follow me."

She led us into a large, airy room with a huge fireplace and Victorian style furniture. She said she would see if Mrs. Monterale would speak with us, and then she hurried out of the room.

"Wow!" exclaimed Nicole, "I'd seen pictures of this place, but its way more impressive in real life. It's like a fairy tale mansion."

"I'll say," Mulder agreed.

"Or something out of Gone with the Wind," I added, and they both nodded.

We didn't have anymore time to talk as the young woman reentered the room, followed by a stately looking, older woman. Her brown eyes were already looking us over, even before we were introduced, appraising us. Her silver hair was pulled into a tight French twist and her lips were set in a thin, tight line.

"Mrs. Monterale, this is Agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI, and Detective Beaumont with the Atlanta Police," the young woman said. By now I had decided that she was the maid.

"Why are you here?" Mrs. Monterale asked sharply, sitting down across from us. Her back stayed ramrod straight.

"We're here to talk to you about the death of your son," Mulder told her, and she stiffened even more, if that were possible.

"Why? There's nothing I can do to help you."

"Well, there might be," said Nicole. "Any information we can get will help us solve his murder."

Mrs. Monterale sat there, studying us. For a minute I was afraid she was going to order us out of her house, but then she sighed and asked, "What could I possibly know that would help you?"

"Anything you can tell us. Even if you think it's not important to you, it could be important to us," I said.

"Well, I don't know much," she said.

"First of all, when was the last time you talked to Philip?" asked Mulder.

"About four years ago."

"Four years?" Mulder repeated. I could hear the surprise in his voice, but it seemed to go unnoticed by Mrs. Monterale. "Why that long ago?"

"Because when Philip married Alexis, the rest of the family cut off relations with him. We didn't talk to either of them."

We all exchanged glances and then Nicole asked, "You didn't approve of the marriage?"

"Most certainly not! Alexis was too young and childish for him. She was a little hussy. If he had wanted a young woman, he should have married when he was young."

"Mrs. Monterale," I began slowly, carefully choosing my words, "you're saying that no one in the family has had contact with Philip or Alexis since they were married?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Do you have any other children Mrs. Monterale?" asked Mulder.

"Yes, my son Peter. I presume you'll want to talk to him?" she responded rather haughtily.

"Well, if he's here, then yes, we would like to speak with him," Nicole informed her.

Mrs. Monterale pressed her lips together again, and then picked up a little bell and gave it a ring. A moment later, the young woman appeared again, and stood waiting expectantly.

"Andrea, would you please tell my son that there are two FBI agents and an Atlanta police officer that wish to talk to him," she said.

"Yes ma'am."

Andrea hurried away, and a few minutes later a man in his late thirties stepped into the room. He had yet to even say hello to us, and already there was a dark scowl drawing his eyebrows together.

"I'm extremely busy, so please don't take up my time," he said pompously, seating himself across from us.

"Well, we'll try to be as brief as possible," said Mulder. "Mr. Monterale, where were you on the night that your brother was murdered?"

"I beg your pardon?" Peter snapped, bristling visibly.

"It's a standard question that we have to ask," Nicole explained, but the explanation didn't seem to smooth his spikes at all. In fact it seemed to agitate him even more.

"I don't think it's even necessary to ask that question. We may have had strained relations, but I would never kill him," Peter snapped. "Something like that has never entered my mind; that's the absolute, one hundred percent truth."

"Please just answer the question," instructed Mulder.

"I was here, with my mother," he replied. We all exchanged a quick glance, and then I said, "Mr. Monterale, we checked with the courts, and they told us that you were staying at the Westin Hotel three days before your brother was killed, and that you didn't check out of the hotel until the morning after your brother was killed."

If looks could kill, I would've been dead right then from the glare that Peter sent my way.

"Agent, I didn't kill my bother."

"Mr. Monterale," Mulder said, "why'd you lie to us? It's very easy for us to check records: why would you lie to us unless you had a reason?"

A heavy silence followed as Peter's eyes shifted from one person to another. A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, and a humid breeze stirred the white lacy curtains. As Peter sat silent, the air in the room seemed to grow thicker with tension; so thick it felt like you could cut it with a pair of scissors.

Finally he breathed a heavy sigh and looked over at his mother. She raised a finely groomed eyebrow and nodded ever so slightly.

"Listen," Peter said, pressing his hands together until the knuckles turned white, "when I heard my brother was killed, I knew that because of the assault charges that I would probably be a suspect. I needed an alibi, and saying that I was in a hotel room, alone, wasn't going to be very convincing."

"My son didn't kill his brother," Mrs. Monterale spoke up, her voice shaking. "When he came here, we thought of the alibi together. We thought it would work. Obviously it didn't. I lost one son, and I didn't want to loose another."

Mrs. Monterale's sorrow was open and honest. No matter how old she might get, and how old her son might get, or how much relations were strained, she would always think of Philip Monterale as her little boy. And it hurt to loose a child. It hurt a lot.

"Mrs. Monterale, we are very sorrow for your loss," Mulder told her. "We know these questions are painful and maddening, but we're just trying to find your son's killer."

"I know, and I'm sorry if I wasn't helping."

"That's alright. We're through now. Thanks for your time."

As Andrea walked us out to the front door, I looked back over my shoulder to see Peter put his arms around his mother's shaking shoulders. My throat started aching and I painfully swallowed the giant lump that had just lodged there. I knew I didn't have much to compare with Mrs. Monterale's pain, but I could at least understand what it was like to loose a child.

"Hey Scully, you comin'?" Mulder asked me, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Oh, yeah," I responded, starting for the car.

Just as we got in, a loud, resounding peal of thunder rolled through the dark threatening clouds, and large raindrops started pelting the car.

"We better get out of here before the roads flood," Nicole stated worriedly.

We had barely been on the road two minutes when the skies opened up and sheets of rain poured down, drenching everything and making it next impossible to see. Mulder pulled the car over to the side of the road.

"I can't see anything," he said as a gust of wind shook the car. "I think we're gonna have to ride this out right here."

We must've been right in the center of the storm because the thunder was deafeningly loud, and the lighting flashed almost simultaneously. The rain came in waves, heavy and heavier, and the pounding echoed inside the car, giving me a headache. Leaves and sticks hit the side of the car, and some stayed plastered there. A branch crashed down right in front of the car, and we all jumped. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but this was starting to scare me. What if it spawned a tornado? We were out in the middle of nowhere, without any protection.

The storm lasted for another ten, very tense minutes before it moved on through and we could finally see again. Our relief gave way to frustration when we saw water across the road about ten yards ahead of us. It wasn't just lying there still, it was running across the road like a stream, and when we studied the map we saw that the road went over a small stream. Only now the stream was over the road.

Mulder got out of the car and jogged up the road to see how deep the water was. He grabbed a stick and leaned as far out as he could over the water, swishing the stick around in the rushing stream. For a moment it looked like he was going to lose his balance and fall face first into the muddy water. He was stretched out on tiptoe and his arms started flailing wildly. Nicole and I started chuckling as he struggled to regain his balance with some sort of semblance of dignity. When he was steady again, he turned around and sent a glare back at the car, but that just made Nicole and me chuckle even harder.

"Well," he said as he got back in the car, "it's definitely too deep to drive through. We're gonna have to go back the other way."

"Sure," was Nicole's serious reply, but there was a smirk hidden just below the surface, ready to break out into laughter. Mulder caught the look, and he saw my smirk as well, and he said, "Ladies, you wouldn't have wanted me to fall into that water. It would be a miserable ride for you too."

"Oh, and what were you gonna do?" Nicole asked in a teasing yet challenging tone.

"He would've sulked all the way back to Atlanta," I answered for Mulder, and he glared at me.

"I do not sulk, Scully."

"Sure."

Mulder was about to say something else but another gust of wind shook the car, and again heavy torrents of rain pelted the car. We all heaved a collective groan, and Nicole remarked that we wouldn't be going this way anytime soon.

"Let's see if this road goes through the other way," I said, picking up the map and turning it around until I could make sense of it. I spent about a minute studying it, and then reported that it did go all the way through, but it turned into a dirt road, and that there was another creek.

"Which probably flooded the road," said Nicole with a frustrated sigh.

"Well, only one way to find out," Mulder said, starting the car and making a U-turn.

The rain had let up, so we headed back the way we came. It wasn't too long before we came to another flooded section in the road. Here the water was even faster and deeper, and Mulder didn't have to get out of the car to see if we could drive through. There was no way that we could.

"Great," he growled, "we're stuck here."

"Maybe the Monterales know of another way out," Nicole suggested.

"Are you suggesting that we go back there and ask them?" I queried.

"Do you have any other ideas," countered Nicole, and I couldn't say that I did.

When we got back to the mansion, Peter and his mother didn't look surprised to see us. In fact it looked like they had been expecting us. When we asked if there was any other way out they said no, and that those creeks didn't go down very fast. It looked to us like we were now stuck out in the swamplands of Georgia.

Then Mrs. Monterale offered to let us stay overnight. When we started to object and say that we didn't want to put her to any trouble she stopped us and told she had plenty of room: besides there wasn't anywhere else we could go. With a quick exchange of looks we all agreed that it was probably the best thing to do, so we accepted her offer.

The rest of the evening passed very stiffly. We didn't say much, except for polite conversation with Mrs. Monterale and her son. The whole situation felt like one of those very embarrassing moments on a sitcom, where something revealing and awkward has just happened, and nobody knows what to do or say. I was very glad when an appropriate hour came and we could go up to the rooms provided for us without seeming impolite.

"Well, it's been a long and strange day," Mulder remarked as we all stopped at our bedroom doors. "We need to get some sleep, and get on the road as soon as conditions permit. Night."

"Night Mulder, Scully."

"Night."

I went into my bedroom and wearily closed the door behind me. The room was almost dark and the white bedspread looked eerie. I switched on a light on a stand beside the door and looked around the room. The bed was situated near the middle of the room, so that it had a clear view of the window. It was an absolutely huge four poster, and at the moment, it looked so comfortable.

Then I noticed a white, short-sleeved night gown lying just below the pillow. A bathrobe was laid out next to it, and a pair of slippers was sitting neatly on the rug, where a person's feet would land.

"Southern hospitality," I muttered to myself, picking up the night gown. It looked like it was brand new, kept specifically for guests who might have forgotten theirs.

I wandered over to a door opposite of the bed and opened it. My mouth made a little 'O' when I saw a small, but very nice bathroom. And there were towels and a washcloth, along with a small bottle of shampoo, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. This place was more furnished that most of the motels Mulder and I had stayed in.

I had read in etiquette books that the good hostess with resources had all these things for her guest, but I hadn't encountered anything to this existent and detail before. Mrs. Monterale was definitely a very prepared hostess.

I quickly washed up for the night, and after I finished I felt more refreshed. I was still tired, but I knew I would sleep better since I was clean. I turned off the light and slipped between the crisp lavender scented sheets. As the lavender began to permeate my senses, I began to relax. The night breeze blew in the open window and the lace curtains fluttered lightly. I could hear the frogs in the nearby swamp; they were saying "Knee deep, knee deep, better go 'round." A whippoorwill sounded in the distance, and even further away, another one answered. The lonely call of a hoot owl floated through the night air, and somewhere, far out in the swamp, a coyote made its presence known.

The wind had grown cooler, and I snuggled deeper under the covers as I drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Viorna

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 5

I didn't wake up the next morning until Mulder knocked on my door. Well, it was more like pounded, but it worked as well as an alarm. I was a little disoriented when my eyes first opened; not quite sure of where I was. Then I remembered that we had been trapped out in the swampy countryside of Georgia, and consequently we had to spend the night in a historic, yet rather creepy mansion.

"Can I come in?' I heard Mulder ask through the door.

"Yeah," I replied, at the same time wondering why I hadn't told him to wait until I was showered and dressed.

The door opened and Mulder peered around it, a cheerful but slightly cautious smile on his face.

"I said you could come in; don't stand there with the door hanging open."

He popped all the way in and came over to the bed, and handed me a cup. I sniffed and smelled the most wonderful smelling coffee I had smelt in a very long time. Suddenly, I just was just a little bit more awake.

"Thanks," I said, after taking a sip of the pick-me-up. Then it hit me: why was Mulder bringing me coffee in bed? Well, not exactly in bed, he hadn't brought it with the intention of giving it to me in bed, but he had brought me coffee. He either wanted something, or wanted to talk to me about something.

"Do you need something Mulder?" I asked.

"Well, I need to talk to you about the case," he said.

"Shouldn't we wait for Nicole to talk about the case?" I couldn't help saying.

"We can talk with Nicole, but I want to just talk to you right now."

"Look, I really do have to get ready."

"Well, go ahead, get ready, it won't bother me."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him, and then I got out of bed to shoo him out of the room. But Mulder didn't shoo so easily. He just kept sitting on the bed, without seeming to get the hint that I wanted him out of the room. Finally, after giving him several looks, I told him to leave. Only then did he remove himself from the room. Sometimes he could be so incredibly childish.

I showered and got dressed, all in record time and I was ready to go by the time Mulder decided that I'd had enough time and came back to get me.

We met Nicole downstairs in the dining room where a very plentiful breakfast was laid out for us. Mrs. Monterale and her son weren't there, and that was fine with me. They both made me rather uncomfortable.

Andrea told us that Mrs. Monterale and Peter were still asleep, and that they wouldn't be getting up for awhile, but if we still wanted to talk to them we were welcomed to wait until they were.

Nicole, Mulder and I had a quick conference and we decided that we had gotten all the information from the Monterales that we were probably going to get and we might as well head back to Atlanta.

Before we left, Mulder left our cards along with a short note thanking the Monterales for their help and hospitality, and if they remembered anything to give one of the numbers a call.

It was a long ride back to Atlanta, with none of us saying very much. Up in the front seat though, Mulder and Nicole kept exchanging looks and from what I could tell from where I was in the back seat, the looks were heavy on the flirting side.

I couldn't understand what it was with Mulder and women. Why were they so attracted to him? It wasn't like he had lots of money and possessions to attract them. He actually had a very difficult job; one with long hours and lots of travel. It was hard to keep a serious relationship going. The only thing I could think of that attracted women was his good looks and his charm; his passionate nature. I knew those were some of the things that attracted me to him. Wait a minute; I was attracted to Mulder? Oh who was I kidding? Myself, I realized. I knew I was attracted to Mulder, and had been for quite awhile. I just didn't know how to face that fact and deal with it.

And really, there was more to Mulder than just his good looks, charm, and passionate nature. He was a kind, caring person, and very loyal if you were loyal to him. In some ways, (and I really hated to characterize him this way) he reminded me of a cocker spaniel. For all his quirks he was a wonderful guy and any women would be lucky to have him. That's what scared me: I knew any woman that was attracted to Mulder knew how lucky she was to get a guy like him.

It was rush hour by the time we hit Atlanta, and from then on it was slow going back to the station. When we finally managed to wind our way through the maze of traffic filled streets and pull into the parking lot, we were all a little bit crabby.

We held a brief but frustrating conference about where we should go next on the case. Mulder remarked that he didn't know how much longer our boss was going to let us stay down here without results and Nicole told us that while our help was appreciated, if we had to leave she understood completely.

"I think we need to take another approach at this case," Mulder suggested.

"Oh, how?" Nicole asked curiously.

"Well, maybe we should be looking at it from the angle of who it couldn't have been."

"It could have been anybody," Nicole countered.

"No, it couldn't. There's something we're missing here, something that is going to make everything fall into place, and we'll know it when we find it."

I knew Mulder was right. There was something missing, something that wasn't quite right about this whole case. I couldn't lay my finger on it; couldn't even really describe it. It was more like a vague feeling than anything else.

"Well, what are we missing?"

"I don't know Nicole, but we'll find it. Right now I think we should go over all the evidence again, and then we figure out where to go from there."

"Okay."

"Sure."

We spent the rest of the evening laying out the evidence on the timeline, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. When we finished, there were definitely many pieces missing, and like Mulder said, a piece that would make it all click.

We were all sitting there think about the case when all of a sudden Mulder snapped his fingers and jerked his feet off the desk.

"I think I have an idea," he exclaimed, an excited look hitting his face. "Okay, we know Mr. Monterale was having an affair, right?"

"Right," Nicole acknowledged.

"What do people do when they have an affair?"

"Well, they, uh, they sleep together," said Nicole with a rather bemused expression.

"Yeah, we know that, but where do they do the wild thing?"

"They go and get a motel or hotel room a lot of times," I responded, also feeling a little puzzled.

"Right, so what do we do?"

Nicole and I just sat there with blank expressions on our faces, wondering what Mulder was trying to tell us. Then it hit me.

"We get his bank statements and credit card statements and we see if he'd ever paid for a room. Then we have the hotel, and someone might have seen the woman he was having the affair with," I said and Mulder nodded with a grin.

"Or better yet, maybe they even know her name. If he's sent flowers to her, then we'll find the flower company, and then we'll find her name," he said.

"That's, that's good thinking," Nicole said. "I didn't think of that. I guess I've just been chasing my tail on this case."

"Hey, we're here to help," Mulder told her with a smile. "So what say you we get to it?"

"Good idea."

We tried to get Mr. Monterale's financial records, but unfortunately the bank and credit union had closed for the night, so we decided to try again in the morning. Nicole suggested that we go and get something to eat and just relax for the rest of the night. And as much as I just wanted to hurry up and get this case over with, her suggestion was enticing. We were all tired and hungry and pretty soon we were going to be cranky.

Nicole took us to another restaurant, instead of The Patrol Café. Don't get me wrong; the food there was good, but it was just that hamburgers and hot turkey sandwiches got a little old after a while. This restaurant was quite a bit more upscale and it served things like raspberry cheese cake and steak that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

We all ordered our food and that included wine instead of ice tea or soda to drink. I made myself a little promise that I wouldn't have more than one glass of wine because somebody needed to drive us back to the hotel and I didn't think that a drunk Mulder and a semi sober Nicole would make for a good combination. Besides, when I drank too much of anything, I never did feel very good the next morning.

Suddenly it hit me that my line of thinking was completely ridiculous, and not only that it, was also wrong. What Mulder did when he was drunk (or sober) was really none of my concern. If he wanted to get involved with Nicole, then it wasn't my place to stop him or even advise him against it. It was his life and he could live how he liked.

So when I had three more glasses of wine, and I caught Mulder looking at me curiously, I gave him a look that could freeze fire. If I was going to mess out of Mulder's life then he'd better do what he knew was good for him and mess out of mine.

Nicole excused herself from the table and as soon as she was out of earshot, Mulder leaned down to my ear and whispered, "Don't you think you've had enough Scully?"

His warm breath tickled my ear and a little shiver ran down my spine. I was almost content to just let the comment slide and enjoy his closeness, but with four glasses of wine in my system I was feeling less inhibited than usual. The alcohol also made me a little more short tempered.

"I think I know when I've had enough and when I haven't," I hissed back. "Now, please hand me the bottle."

Mulder shook his head with a grimace. "You don't need anymore wine for a while," he said, his voice still low. "Why don't I order some coffee and we just don't drink anymore wine for now."

"Mind your own business Mulder. I'll be the judge of how much wine is enough and how much isn't."

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that Mulder was right and that he was just trying to look out for my welfare and possibly save me the embarrassment of being drunk in a nice restaurant, but the rest of my faculties were rather hazy and my dander was up. It wasn't his business how much I drank. The wine was good, I was tired and I figured I deserved a break every now and then. And if he didn't like that he could just go take a flying leap.

"C'mon Scully, let's not get into an argument in a restaurant. I just think you've had too much wine, too fast. Especially for someone your size."

Ooh, that stung. Someone my size; and just what did he mean by that remark? Well, I guessed I'd better find out.

"What do you mean, my size?" I asked him testily.

Mulder cocked an eyebrow and then frowned. "I just meant that you're a small person and that four glasses of wine is going to affect you a lot faster that it would somebody my size."

"Or maybe Nicole's size?"

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know very well what that meant."

"No, I don't," Mulder said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

Somehow, the rational, still sober part of my mind kicked in and I realized that I needed to cool down before I said something I really regretted. I stood up and found to my dismay that the room spun a little, but I managed to steady myself and with as much dignity as I could muster, I walked out.

I stepped out into the night and took a deep breath. What was wrong with me? It was like I was losing my mind or something. The rational, sane Dana Scully would've never gotten herself slightly drunk and then started an argument with her partner in a restaurant. I was very definitely losing my mind, or else I needed a vacation.

"Scully?"

I started when I heard Mulder's voice. What was he doing out here?

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine Mulder," I replied, without turning to look at him. "I'm just tired, and you're right, I did drink too much too fast. You better go back, or Nicole will think we both ditched her. I'm going back to the hotel."

"I told Nicole you weren't feeling too well, and that you'd stepped outside for some air. I'm out here checking on you."

"Well, you've checked on me, and you can tell Nicole that I've gone back to the hotel."

"Why don't you come back and get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry. I just need to go get some sleep."

Mulder sighed, but I still didn't look at him. I could guess that he was probably trying to figure out a way to convince me to come back inside, but I really didn't want to go in and sit listening to him and Nicole enjoying themselves. The best thing for me to do was to just head back to the hotel and sleep.

"How are you going to get back to the hotel?" was Mulder's next question.

"I'll take a cab," I replied.

"You'll probably have to call one 'cause I don't see any around here."

"I know that," I said, fumbling in my jacket for my cell phone. As I retrieved it I realized I didn't know the number for any of the cab services in Atlanta. I was ready to sit down on the sidewalk and cry, I felt so frustrated. I just had all this tension and I needed to scream or something.

"C'mon Scully, I'll take you back."

"What, you gonna ditch Nicole?" I was starting find that thought rather funny. It was about time he ditched somebody else besides me.

"No, I'm not ditching Nicole. I'll explain that you're not feeling well, and then I take you back."

"And then you're gonna spend the rest of the night in your hotel room?"

"Probably not. You might not be hungry, but I am and I don't give up the chance to eat food when somebody else is paying for it."

"So you're comin' back here?"

"Yeah."

"Figures," I snorted. "No thanks, I'll take a cab. I wouldn't want you to inconvenience yourself."

A cab was just passing and I stepped out in the street to hail. It screeched to a halt and I hazily figured that I probably came too close to it when I heard Mulder exclaim, "Geez Scully!" I ignored him as I got in the cab and gave the driver the address of the hotel where we were staying.

I made back to the hotel and up to me room in one piece, and flopped out on the bed with a heavy sigh. I didn't even bother to change my clothes, and as I drifted off to sleep I wondered vaguely what Mulder and Nicole were talking about.

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Something woke me up later that night, but I wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that my head hurt and my mouth was all dry and pasty. Or maybe it was the fact that I was still in my clothes. Whatever it was, I knew I needed to get some aspirin or I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep.

I dug through my luggage until I found the little bottle of pain relief, and I hastily shook out two pills into my palm and headed into the bathroom to get some water to take them. After I swallowed the pills I found myself wishing for some ice water. But I didn't have any ice. I groaned as I took the ice bucket and my gun and headed for the ice machine.

I was passing Mulder's door on my way back when a sound stopped me dead in my tracks. It sounded like a groan coming from inside Mulder's room. My heart started beating so hard it felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. I didn't want to imagine what had happened to him. All I kept seeing was an image of Mulder lying on the floor, bleeding out.

The adrenaline was pumping hard as I unholstered my service weapon, and then with a deep breath pushed the door open. I quickly scanned the room fearing I would find a badly injured Mulder lying around somewhere, but what I saw on the bed completely threw me for a loop. Mulder was lying on the bed alright, but there on top of him was Nicole. They were both kissing each other like mad and working on the process of undressing each, but it didn't look like they had been at it too long, because Mulder was still wearing his t-shirt and pants, and Nicole was still dressed except for missing nylons and shoes, although her blouse was part way open.

Nicole's sedated and reserved bun had fallen apart, leaving her hair rumpled and very seductive looking. Mulder's hair was rumpled and both their faces were flushed and they were both still panting slightly. It looked like I had interrupted a very heavy breathing session.

Mulder and Nicole just stared at me, frozen, and I stared back at them, frozen. It felt like time had stood still. Then I felt the adrenaline start to drain away, and my legs went all rubbery. I felt a little sick. This wasn't the first time I had stumbled in on Mulder and some woman getting ready to do the wild thing, but it still left me feeling like I had been sacked.

They both started to grow a very bright shade of red and Nicole leapt off of Mulder like he was on fire. She opened her mouth like she was getting ready to say something but then she closed it and began searching around for her shoes.

Mulder ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. For once in his life he seemed speechless, but unfortunately so was I. And then I realized that if I kept standing there it was going to start looking really weird, like maybe I actually did care what Mulder did on his personal time. So I mumbled an apology, turned on my heel and picked up the ice bucket I had dropped and dashed back to my room.

I sank bonelessly down on my bed and dropped my head in my hands. It was getting harder and harder to deny to myself that I didn't have feelings for Mulder. Pretty soon, if I kept acting like I was it was going to be very hard to deny it to the rest of the world too.

A short, mirthless laugh escaped my lips. At least I had cooled their passion. And then again maybe I hadn't. With Mulder, who knew? If he wanted something badly enough, he'd go after it, and I had a feeling Nicole was the same way. Besides, I could feel the sexual tension between them, and one way or the other it would find some sort of relief.

I curled up on the bed, and closed my eyes. I was so tired and my head hurt so badly. I wished I had someone to hold me and make me feel better, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. The person I wanted was in the other room, probably sucking on Nicole's ear.

A tear slipped out of my tightly closed eyes and ran down over my nose. I felt like having a pity party, but I couldn't scrounge more than one tear.

Slowly, a deep hazy sleep overtook me, and I didn't wake up until the next morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi all! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and thanks for the reviews. Here's the next chapter.

Viorna

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 6

It was a loud, persistent ringing and sunlight in my face that woke me up the next morning. I groaned and clumsily hit the off button on my alarm clock and then buried my head under the pillow. Why couldn't the sun just go back to bed for the day? It didn't have any pity for anyone.

Then it occurred to me that the sun shouldn't be as bright as it was and I sat up with a gasp as I looked at the clock. It was eight in the morning, not six like my clock had been set for. Had I slept right through my alarm and the snooze just kept kicking in?

I tumbled off the bed and grabbed some clothes, and then headed for the shower, stripping off my clothes as I went.

I felt about ninety percent better when I got out. My head still ached some but, with an aspirin and a cup of coffee I figured I would be good to go.

I was just finishing blow drying my hair when there was a knock on my door. I slipped on my shoes and hurried to answer it. There stood Mulder, with a peculiar little smile on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Morning," he said. "Thought you might like some coffee."

"Thanks," I replied, taking the offered cup and standing back to let him in, although I couldn't on earth figure out why.

"How ya feeling?" he asked as he seated himself on the bed.

"Better than I was last night, but my alarm clock didn't go off until eight this morning. I think it must be broken."

Mulder flushed ever so slightly and shook his head. "No, it wasn't broken. You left your door unlocked last night, so I came in to make sure you were okay. You didn't hear a thing. I figured you were bushed and I set the alarm for eight," he explained, sounding a little guilty.

"Oh." That was the only thing I could think of to say. Mulder irritated me so much and then he would go and do something so incredibly sweet that I wanted to strangle him. Yes, strangle him. It made me so mad that here was this sweet, handsome and completely endearing guy that seemed so perfect, and yet I couldn't have him. He was off limits, both because of our job and the fact that despite all our problems, we were still good friends. I didn't want to risk our friendship by telling him how I felt.

"Look, um, about last night," Mulder began. He looked incredibly uncomfortable and uneasy.

"Mulder, um, I'm sorry for walking in on you guys. Seems like I have a propensity to do that. Just, let's forget about the whole thing," I said, cutting him off before he could go any further. I didn't want to know if he had slept with her. In fact I didn't want to hear anything about the whole incident. I just wanted to put it out of my mind and get on with things. The sooner we finished this case and got back to DC, the better.

"Well, how 'bout some breakfast," he suggested.

"No, thanks. I just need to get to work."

"You sure you're not hungry?"

"Positive." Actually, the truth be told, my stomach was a little queasy, and the thought of breakfast wasn't very appealing.

On our way down to the station house, Mulder told me that they had gotten Mr. Monterale's financial records and at the moment Nicole was going over them to find out anything she could. Maybe we would get lucky and find the name of the hotel where Mr. Monterale and his mistress had stayed.

When we got to Nicole's desk, she looked up and her cheeks flushed a bright pink, but other than that there was no indication that she was upset about last night. She handed Mulder a file and explained that it was Mr. Monterale's credit card receipts. She then gave me a file that was full of his debit card receipts and we both sat down to get to work.

About an hour later we were still at it when Mulder exclaimed, "Jackpot!"

"You got something?" I asked and he nodded, handing me a piece of paper. On it was the name of a hotel that wasn't too far from the one we were staying in.

"I've got more," he said. "He was using different hotels all around the city. It doesn't look like he stayed in the same one twice."

"Well, he wasn't that dumb," Nicole remarked. "A lot of guys just go to the same hotel."

"I wonder if he paid, or if she paid using his card," I said and both Mulder and Nicole looked over at me curiously.

"What'd ya mean?" Mulder asked.

"If she paid, then people would probably remember her better than if he paid. After all, it would be a woman using a card with a man's name on it."

"He obviously wasn't that smart," said Mulder. "They should've used cash, like guys with hookers do it."

"Well, they must've had quite a thing going," said Nicole.

"Why'd do you say that?" I asked.

"He took her to a bed and breakfast several times, according to these receipts."

"Yeah, and I have receipts for flowers, candy, jewelry, stuff like that," added Mulder.

"Maybe he was buying some of that stuff for Mrs. Monterale," I suggested.

"Maybe, but I doubt it."

"Well, what do we do next?" asked Nicole.

"We hit the hotels and see of anybody remembers them, and if they can give us any description of her," Mulder said.

"How 'bout we split up," Nicole suggested. "That way things'll go faster."

"Good idea. Me and Scully'll let you know if we find anything," Mulder told her, and I saw an almost undetectable slump of Nicole's shoulders. I guess she was counting on getting him all to herself for the day. Well, she thought wrong. Mulder was still my partner, and we worked together.

Still, as we walked out to our car, I couldn't help but ask, "Why didn't you want to go with Nicole?"

Mulder gave me a weird look and then asked, "Why do you want to know why I went with you?"

Geez, it seemed like I couldn't keep my mouth shut these days. And then against my own better judgment I went on to say, "Oh, I dunno. I thought it was just a little strange to give up a whole day to be alone with Nicole."

"Okay, this conversation isn't going to go anywhere good, so I'm not saying anything else," Mulder said with air of finality, and I figured I should drop the subject. It wouldn't be very productive anyway.

We spent the day going to all the hotels on the receipts. It was a hot muggy day, and the heat from the sun radiated back up from the pavement, making everything wavy and rather distorted.

Six in the evening and all the hotels we had hit either didn't remember the couple, or they didn't remember the woman. Now we had two hotels left, but we were both getting tired and cranky. I hoped with all my being that these last two would have something for us.

"May I help you?" the gray haired woman behind the desk asked with a pleasant smile as we walked in.

"Yeah, I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully from the FBI. We have a receipt that shows a Mr. Phillip Monterale stayed here two weeks ago," Mulder said, getting right to the point.

"Phillip Monterale," she repeated, pondering the name. Then her eyes lit up. "I do remember them, but the last time he stayed here was a week ago. He was here with a very attractive young woman."

Mulder and I exchanged a glance. Maybe we'd get lucky this time.

"Can you remember what she looked like?" I asked.

"Well, she had brown hair, but that was about it. I really don't remember what people look like, but I do remember what I hear."

"And did you hear something?"

"Well, they came in and they looked alright with each other. The woman paid cash, and I gave them a key to one of the rooms. They weren't in there more than fifteen minutes when the woman came storming out. She was yelling and screaming something awful. Mr. Monterale came out after her and he tried to get her to calm down, but she wouldn't. I thought was I going to have to call the police, but she left. They haven't been back since," the woman told us.

"You wouldn't happen to have her name anywhere would you?" Mulder asked hopefully, but the woman shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry. When customers pay in cash they don't have to sign anything."

"Well, do you think you could give a description of the woman to a police sketch artist?" he asked next.

"No, I don't think so. I mean, I'd be more than willing to do it, but I don't think I could describe her."

"Well, thanks for your help. What's your name so we know who to get in touch with you if we have to?" I asked.

"Mildred Walden. I live out back so it shouldn't be too hard to find me," she told us with a pleasant smile.

"Thanks," said Mulder, and he handed her a card before we left.

When we got in the car, Mulder looked over at me and said, "So, they were there a week ago. That means they were there two days before he was killed. Kinda interesting, huh?"

"Yeah, it is. But we still don't have anything concrete, especially to connect his mistress to his murder."

"I know, but we're getting closer; I can feel it."  
"Well, one more hotel to go, and this was about nine days ago."

The last hotel fell as flat as all the rest had, but at least we had the one. It was a very faint light at the end of the tunnel that had been very dark for a long time.

"You know something else we didn't thoroughly check," Mulder said as we were driving back to the station.

"What?" I responded.

"Mr. Monterale's office. I mean, gee, there's gotta be some kind of evidence in there, doncha think?"

"What kind of evidence?"

Mulder chuckled and shook his head deprecatingly. "I guess you've never had an office romance, have you?"

"You mean, you think Monterale and his mistress had sex in his office?"

"Yeah, probably. There's gotta be some clothing that was left behind somewhere, or some jewelry, something like that. Maybe we can find something to get DNA off of it. Or maybe some fingerprints," he said, pulling over to the curb.

"Mulder, if the guy was smart, he would've never taken that woman anywhere near his office."

"Maybe she came there under pretense of business."

"Well, if she came there under pretense of business, then someone might remember her, or at least her name might be in an appointment book."

Mulder sighed and leaned his head back in the seat, and then closed his eyes. It sent a jolt of alarm through me, how tired he looked. In fact, he looked stressed.

"What's wrong?" I asked quickly.

"Oh, just that this case has so many twists and turns. It just seems like we should be getting somewhere, or finding something that will break this case. But we don't. In fact, there's a lack of evidence."

I sighed too, and then we both sat silently, watch the cars pass by us. The case was very frustrating, and the lack of evidence only made it worst. Then a thought struck me.

"Mulder, remember that one Sherlock Holmes story, the one where he said that fact that the dog didn't bark when the horse was stolen was the defining factor in the whole case?"

"Yeah, but what's your point."

"It was the lack of evidence. The dog _didn't _bark. It was what he didn't do. Maybe our lack of evidence is evidence in it's self."

Mulder's opened wide as his face lit up excitedly and a grin spread across it.

"I think you might be onto something. You know what really struck me as weird?"

"What?"

"The only finger prints that they found in that apartment where Mr. and Mrs. Monterales' prints. If someone was in there, there should be prints."

"Unless the person wore gloves or wiped things down."

"But does that fit with the very erratic firing pattern in Mr. Monterale? Whoever killed him was furious, or they didn't know what they were doing."

"I'm inclined to think the person was as angry as all get out."

Mulder nodded, then said, "But now, does that make sense? If it was his mistress who killed him, the firing pattern would make sense, but there aren't any prints."

"Unless she knew not to leave any."

"Now, who blows someone away in a fit of passion, but still doesn't leave any prints or any other physical evidence at the scene? Who can think that clearly?"

"Someone who knows about evidence."

"Right. And what types of people know about evidence?"

"Anybody can know about evidence Mulder. There are so many TV shows on that talk about that kind of thing."

"I know Scully, but think about it, when people commit a crime, do they really think about the physical evidence they leave behind?"

I shook my head. I knew where Mulder was taking this line of thought, but it didn't quite set right with me. To insinuate that a law enforcement officer was the murderer wasn't going to go over well with the Atlanta PD, and besides the idea was a little far fetched, at least to my mind.

"Don't rule it out Scully, it may be the only lead we have," he said as he started the car and continued back to the station. "It wouldn't be the first time a cop killed somebody in a fit of passion."

When we got back to the station, Mulder filled Nicole in on his theory, but she shook her head and gave him the same reasons I had thought of. Then she went on to tell us that all of the people she had talked to had come up as dead ends: nobody remembered Mr. Monterale and the woman with him.

We were interrupted by Mulder's cell phone ringing, and I leaned back in a chair and closed my eyes while he went to take the call. When he returned, he looked rather grim

"What's wrong?" asked Nicole.

"That was our boss," he said and I sat up. "He asked for a progress report and I had to tell him we weren't making a whole lot of headway. When I told him that he told me that he wants us back in DC."

"Why?" I asked.

"He said that the Atlanta PD can handle the investigation, and that there are things the Bureau wants us to do," Mulder explained. "I'm really sorry about this Nicole, but he wants us to get a plane back sometime tomorrow."

"Hey, there's nothing to apologize for; I completely understand. I mean, I have a boss too, and I don't think he'd like it too well if I was working on somebody else's case without any results. But thanks for all your help guys."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome. I just wish we could do more," Mulder told her, and I added in my head, "And that goes for more than just the investigation."

Nicole offered to drive us to the airport the next day, and then we said goodnight and headed for our hotel.

Mulder followed me into my room and flopped out on my bed, bouncing slightly as he landed.

"Well," he said with a little smile, "I guess you better start packing."

My suspicions were immediately aroused. I didn't like the sound of his voice: it sounded like he was up to something that wasn't any good.

"What exactly do you mean I better start packing?" I asked, stopping in front of him and putting my hands on my hips.

"Geez Scully, do you always read things into what I say?"

"I'm not reading anything into what you said Mulder. I'm merely asking you what you meant."

"And all I said was that you better start packing."

"You going to stay here while I go back to DC, aren't you?" I accused, a frown drawing my eyebrows together.

"Aw gee, ya figured out my plan. Yeah, you're going back to DC while I finish this case."

I threw my hands up into the air in exasperation. Then I just stood there looking at him, shaking my head.

"What is it with you Mulder? Don't you know when to just give up and follow orders?"

"Hey, this is me you're talking to. Me, the FBI's pain in the butt because I don't give up when they tell me to. See, tenacity is what gets cases solved," he said with a grin. Then he pulled out his little bag of sunflowers and started cracking the shells.

"Tenacity isn't what you have: it's called idiocy. You just can't quit when you get obsessed about something."

"I obsess?"

"Yes! You most definitely obsess!"

"Thanks for the diagnosis Doc; I'll send you a check."

Mulder was really starting tick me off, big time. He was just lying there on the bed, cracking sunflower seeds with a big stupid grin on his face. I wanted to grab his bag of seeds and beat him over the head with it.

"You know, you're this way with whatever you do. It was this way with the X-Files. You obsessed over them day and night when they were open, and now you obsess about moonlighting since they've been closed."

Now that got Mulder's attention. He sat up with a jerk and looked at me with a very weird expression of his face. Then he said, "You know, I wasn't obsessing, I was searching for the truth. That was what I was put there to do. I was there to solve cases that nobody else wanted to even try to solve. I was doing my job. I thought you understood that." By now he was standing and glaring at me.

Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, a little voice told me not to push this any further, to just let it drop, but unfortunately I was already mad and for some reason, looking for a fight. So I didn't listen to my good common sense and I just kept going.

"So that's what you call it, searching for the truth. You know, there are times when I believe you just kept at it to prove everyone else wrong. That's all. It wasn't about the truth, not really. You wanted to bring down people that had screwed you over in the past, and I think this was the only way you knew how to do it," I snapped out.

Mulder took a step backwards and blinked. He looked like I had just socked him in the jaw. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gaping for air. Then he swallowed hard.

"I, this, what are you babbling about, Scully? This has nothing to do with proving anybody wrong. This is about the truth. I thought, I thought the X-Files meant something to you. I thought everything we had worked on meant something," he said quietly. "I know we didn't agree on most things when it came to my theories, but I thought we at least agreed to disagree."

"Do you honestly think that searching for proof of aliens means anything to me? Do you really think I care that there might be little green men out there?"

"Gray."

"What!"

"They're gray, not green."

I clenched my teeth and blew out my cheeks with air. That was Mulder; little gray men, not green.

"Scully, if the X-Files didn't mean anything to you, then why did you stay. You're bright, talented; you had a great career ahead of you, you could've gone anywhere you wanted. Why'd you stay?"

I sucked in my breath. The question hit me like a punch in the gut and I realized I didn't know how to answer it. Why had I stayed? Why had I gone through everything that I had, and still kept coming back for more? Was it that I cared about little gray men? Or maybe I really did care about the truth, like Mulder? I knew I wanted to know what had happened to me, but there was more. I was beginning to believe that one of the big reasons I stayed was because of the little gray man hunter himself.

I rubbed my temples with my fingers and closed my eyes. They were starting to throb. I couldn't think of a way to answer Mulder. In fact, it felt like he had boxed me into a corner. I was trapped. I couldn't escape.

"Look," I snapped, "why I stayed isn't important. We're not talking about me; we're talking about you and you obsessing. Actually we're talking about why, just for once in your life, why can't you follow orders?"

"You know, that's all you've ever cared about, the rules and following orders. Do you even care that the X-Files are gone, that it all went up in flames? 'Cause it sure doesn't seem like you do. This has all been a waste of time for you, hasn't it? You don't give a crap that all our work is gone," Mulder growled as his eyes narrowed angrily.

That hurt and I lashed out with the only think I could think of.

"I'm glad it's gone. Maybe now you'll stop wasting your life," I hissed, breathing hard.

Mulder's mouth dropped open. He looked stunned, and he gave his head a little shake. Then he started backing up, going for the door.

Suddenly I felt sick. He looked like a whipped puppy. I couldn't believe I had actually said that to him, and all I wanted now was to take it all back. I wanted so badly to turn back time, to make sure this never happened.

"Oh, Mulder, I-."

"Just, let's not say anything else tonight," he said a very low, still voice, opening the door and stepping out. For a minute he stopped, like he was going to say something else, but then he changed his mind and closed the door.

I stood there in the middle of the room, shocked. I just didn't want to believe I had said those awful things to him. What I had said wasn't true. He just needed to know what the truth was, like I did. That was all.

I crawled into the center of the bed and wrapped my arms around my stomach. I was vaguely aware that I was running out of fuel, but I didn't have any appetite to eat. I knew until I apologized to Mulder and made him understand that I never meant what I had said that I wasn't going to be able to eat without knots in my stomach.

But maybe he was right. Maybe this wasn't the right time to talk. We were both angry, and if we talked right now we might end up only making it worse. I needed to cool down and so did he. I would talk to him first thing in the morning.

I didn't sleep very well that night and I woke with a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach the next morning. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong that day. I could only pray that it wouldn't be bad enough to cost somebody their life.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi everyone! Sorry it's taken me so long to update, but I just started my summer semester at college and I have a sick cat. But anyway, here's the next chapter, and I hope to post chapter 8 by tomorrow evening. I hope you enjoy chapter 7. :)

Viorna

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 7

Well, I guess you guys better be getting to the airport," Nicole remarked. "It's going on lunchtime and there's going to be a lot of traffic if we don't get going."

"Actually, it's just Agent Scully going to the airport," Mulder told her, and a rather pleased smile crossed her face. "I'll be staying here until we finish the case."

"Won't your boss be mad?"

"Not really and Scully can explain it to him."

"Well, I do appreciate your help."

I felt like barfing as I watched Nicole talking to Mulder. And that nasty feeling didn't get any better when I thought about the fact that we were parting ways angry. We hadn't spoken to each other since last night when he left my room. And it didn't look like we were going to be talking anytime soon.

I was also starting to get mad again. He was ditching me for about the millionth time. Not in the technical sense of the word, but he was going to let me do all the explaining to Skinner, again.

So when I left for the airport I didn't bother to even try to say goodbye to him. And while I was sitting in the terminal waiting for my flight I considered just letting him explain himself to Skinner when he got back. Maybe that would teach him to ditch his partner.

Fifteen minutes before boarding time my cell phone rang. I snatched it up eagerly, hoping it was Mulder.

"Agent Scully," I said.

"Agent Scully, this Rick Lawden from the Atlanta Crime Lab. I found something on that .44 Magnum you recovered?"

"What?"

"I found a partial print and I ran it through AFIS and I didn't get a hit. But then I got a hit off of our own database. Not only does this database have criminal records but it also has other records with fingerprints."

"Well, Mr. Lawden, you should be talking to Agent Mulder or Detective Beaumont. I'm off this case and going back to Washington."

"I tried Agent Mulder's cell phone, and I don't want to talk to Detective Beaumont."

"Why not?"

"The print matched to Detective Beaumont."

My eyes flew wide open and I wasn't sure I had heard him right.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes I am Agent Scully. This is the reason I wanted to talk to you or Agent Mulder. Det. Beaumont assured me that she never touched the handgun, but I need to confirm that from someone else."

"After I found the gun, she arrived at the apartment at the same time you did. And the rest of the time she was there she didn't go inside."

"That's what I thought."

"Listen Mr. Lawden, I know I can't exactly authorize this, but I would like it if you and your team went back over to the Monterales' apartment and dusted again."

"I think under the circumstances it won't be a problem. And this will stay between you and me for now."

"That's right. Thanks for calling."

"Right. Bye."

Mr. Lawden hung up and I sat there, a little bewildered by this turn of events. Whatever was going on here, it wasn't good. Either Nicole had handled evidence without gloves or she, well, she was involved somehow. I hated to jump to that sort of conclusion, but something in my gut told me that I wasn't whistling Dixie. Mulder's cockamamie theory wasn't so cockomamie anymore.

Well, so much for me going back to DC. I had work to do and the first thing I was going to do was go back and talk to Mrs. Walden. And that meant showing her a picture of Nicole.

When I arrived at the little hotel, Mrs. Walden recognized me right away and her face lit up with a big smile.

"Why Agent Scully, what brings you back here," she asked brightly.

"Hi Mrs. Walden; I was wondering if you would take a look at a couple of pictures for me," I told her, and handed her a small collage of photos I had put together of different women, including Nicole. "Tell me if any of those women might have been with Mr. Monterale."

She took the paper and studied it very carefully, but I could see her forehead wrinkling in doubt. Finally she handed it back to me, shaking her head.

"You know, I could pick out a face, but I just don't know. You know, I'm older and maybe my memory isn't as good as it used to be."

"Just tell me what you think."

"Well, if I'm going to pick someone, it would have to be that women there," Mrs. Walden said, pointing to Nicole's picture.

My stomach gave a nauseous flip and I sighed inaudibly. This was going from bad to worse.

"I know I didn't tell you this before, but that was because I didn't remember until now. Just before they came in here, they stopped at that spirits store across the street."

"They did?" I asked, feeling crossed between elated and horrified and sickened.

"Yes they did. I don't know if that's of any help."

"It's been a lot of help. Thank you very. Now, if you remember anything else, give me a call."

I hurried out and across the street to the liquor store. If it was like most stores, it had a security camera.

I managed to convince the store managed to let me take the tape, and then I quickly headed back to the crime lab. I had to wait for their visuals specialist to take a look at it, but I couldn't wait very patiently.

While I was waiting, Lawden called again and told me that they had lifted a few other prints from the apartment and that they were at the top of his list. I thanked him and then it was back to more waiting.

The longer I waited, the sicker feeling I got. I knew I didn't really like Nicole, but that was only because she was interested in Mulder. (I didn't like any woman who was interested in Mulder.) But that didn't mean I wanted anything like this to happen. I figured she was a good officer, and it would only hurt the department if she had killed Mr. Monterale. And just the idea that she would murder someone like that was horrible. Oh I wasn't shocked: I had seen a lot during my time with the FBI, but it still unnerved me.

My cell phone rang again and when I answered it, my stomach dropped two floors as I heard AD Skinner's voice.

"Agent Scully, I was just calling to see when you would be landing in DC."

"Well, sir, some things came up," I told him, trying to keep my voice from giving away too much.

"And just what came up Agent Scully?" he asked suspiciously.

"We had a break in the case. It's very important that Agent Mulder and I follow this lead out to its end."

"They do have detectives down there in Atlanta, Agent Scully. I think they're perfectly capable of handling the case."

"You see sir, that's the catch. Some new evidence has come to light and the preliminary results seem to indicate that the detective in charge of this investigation may be involved somehow."

There was a deep silence on the other end, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in Skinner's head.

"Why don't you turn this new information over to another officer in the Atlanta PD?" he finally asked.

"Because sir, they may not be very receptive to the evidence or the theory."

Skinner sighed heavily and said, "Well, given this new situation you both have another twenty-four hours, but after that I want you to turn this over to the APD, you understand?"

"Yes sir, and thank you."

"Goodbye Agent Scully."

"G'bye sir."

As I hung up I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. That was a bit of a load off of my mind. At least we could stay in Atlanta without disobeying orders.

"Agent Scully," Ben, the young man working on the security footage interrupted my thoughts. "I think I have something for you."

"Okay, what?"

"Well, c'mon in and I'll show you."

I followed Ben back into the lab room, and he proceeded to show me what was on the tape. He had enhanced the image so that we could see the faces clearly and at a larger scale. And there on the screen, walking into the liquor store with Mr. Monterale was Nicole Beaumont.

Well, that definitely gave me enough reasonable suspicion to start digging around Nicole. But I wasn't going let her or Mulder know I was still in Atlanta. I needed more proof before I brought Mulder in, because I knew he wasn't going to believe it was her without a lot of it.

I checked in with Lawden, but they hadn't finished processing the prints yet. So now I needed come at this from another angle. Then it struck me that maybe when Nicole had told us that she hadn't gotten any feedback from the hotels she had talked to she might've been lying. And that meant I needed to go talk to them myself.

I showed her picture around at the first six hotels, and they didn't know her, but they did remember Mr. Monterale. Now that didn't mean a whole lot, but it did tell me that she hadn't been there yesterday. The next two hotels after that didn't remember her or Mr. Monterale.

On the last two hotels I hit jackpot. Not only did the clerks remember seeing Mr. Monterale and Nicole together, but the last one had Nicole's signature for payment of a room in his record book. I collected the book as evidence, and then I headed back to the crime lab.

On my way in Lawden stopped to talk to me and he told me that the prints they had lifted matched Nicole's. He said they had found them on the door post, like someone had been resting their hand there.

I thanked him, and then I told him I was going to head over to Mr. Monterale's office, and I might need a crime team. He told me that I'd get one if I needed it.

I didn't have any trouble getting the low level secretary at the front desk to let me into Mr. Monterale's executive suite. I did found it a little strange though that they hadn't searched Monterale's office, but since Nicole was in charge of the investigation I guessed it wasn't really that strange after all.

When I first went in, I didn't notice anything right off. Everything seemed to be in place and the whole place was very clean. Maybe a little too clean. It looked to me like perhaps surfaces had been wiped down.

As I was looking around the office I heard the door rattle, and then the sound of someone inserting a key and unlocking it. Then I heard Mulder and Nicole's voices and I quickly looked around for a place to hide. I didn't want them seeing me there, not yet. It would show my cards before I was ready.

I ducked inside the bathroom closet and crouched down behind the clothes hamper. It was just big enough to hide me from view should someone open the door. Please, please don't let them look behind the clothes hamper.

"Well, it looks clean," I heard Mulder say. "Almost too clean, like somebody wiped it down."

At least he shared my opinion of the room, even though he had no clue that he did.

"C'mon Mulder, you really don't believe that, do you," came Nicole's voice. "If somebody actually knew what they were doing, then why did they shoot Mr. Monterale the way they did. It was erratic: amateur like the coroner said."

"It's just a hunch, something I can't shake."

"Well, I'll take the bathroom; are you alright out here?"

"Yeah."

I heard Nicole enter the bathroom and I shrunk further into the corner. If she saw me it was going was going to be all over; and really, really embarrassing.

"Please let them still be there," I heard her mutter, and then the closet door opened. My heart jumped into my throat and stayed there as the light came streaming in.

Nicole switched on her flashlight and flipped open the lid of the hamper. She started digging around in it, and she was muttering. I couldn't quite understand what she was saying, but it did sound rather desperate.

Then she exclaimed softly, "Oh thank heavens," and pulled out a red, lacy bra and a matching pair of panties. She hurriedly stuffed them into her purse, and then closed the hamper, and left the bathroom.

"Well," she said, "I didn't find anything in the bathroom. How 'bout you?"

"No, nothing, but it definitely looks like somebody wiped this desk down. There aren't any prints that I can find," Mulder replied.

"I guess we better get going."

I heard them leave and I let out my breath. Slowly my heart sank back to its proper resting place and my breathing slowed to a healthy rate. That had been close, too close. If she had seen me there, she would know something was going on and get paranoid. And I couldn't talk to Mulder until I had enough evidence so that if she did run we could arrest her. If she saw Mulder going off by himself that would probably excite her suspicions too. If she even knew I hadn't gone back to DC and I hadn't told them I had stayed, that would probably be enough to put her signals up. Needless to say, I had to be careful.

I wished I had gotten to that hamper before she did. There might have been some DNA on the clothes that could've helped nail this thing down. The only evidence we really had just proved that she was probably having an affair with Mr. Monterale. None of it proved that she was the one who killed him. Except for a partial print on a weapon that was like the one that killed Monterale; and the prints on the wall in the apartment. It was all very vague circumstantial evidence.

I slowly walked down to my car, trying to think of some way to figure this case out. It was really frustrating that I couldn't break it; it was even frustrating that Nicole and Mulder couldn't break. But I guess with an investigator who was the killer, the killer would always be one step ahead.

About half an hour later a man from ballistics called me and told me that the gun I had found was very definitely the gun that had killed Mr. Monterale. It was good information, but it wasn't really proving anything one way or the other.

Maybe it was time to talk to Mulder. There had been many times when we had found very little evidence and then he had been able to see something that would crack the whole case wide open. That's why his solve rate was so high; he good see beyond the obvious into the unknown and make the invisible visible.

It was now going on eight in the evening, and I figured that Mulder and Nicole would be eating something by now. Hopefully Mulder would go back to his hotel room after supper, and I definitely hoped he would go alone. Not only did I not want them sleeping together, but if she were there, then I wouldn't be able to talk to Mulder very well.

I had some time to kill so I figured would do a little more investigation. A curious thought occurred to me. I wondered if the police had knocked on the neighbors' door during their preliminary investigation. It definitely wouldn't hurt to check it out so I headed back to the Monterales' apartment building. If it didn't pan out then I would go get something to eat until it was time for me to go talk to Mulder. I hadn't eaten much today and my stomach was grumbling loudly by now.

The first two neighbors hadn't been home when the murder had occurred, so they weren't of much use, so I moved onto the next apartment. I rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. I rang it a second time, and when again nobody answered I felt rather discouraged. As I was turning to head down the hall, the door opened and a handsome older man stuck his head out.

"Did you ring the bell miss?" he asked.

"Yes I did," I told him. "I Special Agent Dana Scully, with the FBI and I was wondering if I might speak with you."

"Certainly. This is regarding the Monterale murder?"

"Yes."

"Well, please come in."

His apartment was similar to the Monterale apartment, at least in layout. It wasn't quite as lavish in the way it was furnished or decorated, but it still had an air of elegance.

The man introduced himself as James McHarlin and then proceeded to tell me what he had seen that night.

"I didn't get home until around twelve fifteen, but on my way in I collided with a young woman," he told me. "I suppose she was about nineteen or twenty years old. She ran straight into me on the stairs. Nearly knocked me over."

"Why were you taking the stairs?" I asked.

"For exercise. I take a stairs instead of an elevator whenever I can."

"So, can you describe her?"

"I didn't get a chance to get a good look at her face but she was about your height and she had blond hair. And you know how sometimes you can feel when people are terrified; well this was one of those times. She was very definitely terrified."

"Is there anything else?"

"That's all I can remember and I don't know if that'll be of any use to you."

"Well, thanks for your help just the same. I appreciate it," I told him.

"Glad to be of service," Mr. McHarlin said with a smile.

Now the next step in the process was finding some way to identify the girl. It could possibly be done through a security camera, if she had been caught on film but the likelihood of that being a reality wasn't too good. But still, it wouldn't hurt to look at the security cameras, just to see.

I went downstairs to the security office and told them who I was and why I was there, and they had a little surprise for me. They said that they had seen the girl and that they had caught her on camera, and she had dropped some books on her way out of the building. They had collected the books and the books were from a library, but they hadn't returned the books yet. I told them I would take the books with me so that I could use them to get the girl's name.

Unfortunately, the library was closed for the evening, so finding out who she was would to have to wait until morning. Anyway, I had to go talk to Mulder, and I wasn't really looking forward to that. I hoped Nicole hadn't gone back to his hotel room with him. If she was there, it was going to make for an awkward situation.


	8. Chapter 8

Here's chapter 8. I know it's a little late in the evening, but better late than never, right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Viorna

Disclaimer still applies

When I arrived at Mulder's door, I could hear the TV on inside and I figured that he was probably there alone. At least I hoped so. I took a deep breath and rapped sharply on the door. Inside I could hear him give a little groan, and then he picked up his pistol and walked over to answer it.

The look on his face when he saw me standing there was one of shock and curiosity, along with a little bit of annoyance. For a moment he just stood there, looking at me, and I knew he was trying to think of something to say that wouldn't sound like he was glad to see me or that he didn't want to see me at all. He wanted it to be neutral.

"Scully," he finally said with a nod. Then, "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in DC."

"Some things changed. Can I come in or do I have to tell you about it out here in the hall?"

"C'mon in."

I brushed past him and when my shoulder touched his chest he stiffened a little and backed away from me. That small movement made me feel lousy and hurt, but that's the way things were for the time being.

I took a seat in the chair next to the dresser and he sat down opposite me on the bed. We were facing each other and it was a little hard to avoid looking at him, so I figured I just had to do the best I could.

"Listen Mulder, something's come up and it's very important that you listen to me with an open mind," I said and a dark frown came across his face.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a little kid, Scully," he told me. There was no mistaking from his voice that he was angry with me. That made this whole thing even harder to explain to him.

"Don't get pouty with me. I have to talk to you and you better listen," I growled at him.

"I always listen to you Scully."

"Oh sure, you listen, but you don't hear."

"You know, if you have something to say, then say it. If you don't, then leave."

I had to bit my tongue, literally, to keep from saying something nasty to him. I just needed to tell him what I knew, and then I would leave. I wasn't going to get into another argument with him. I took a couple of deep breaths and sighed. Then I told him, "When I was at the airport, Rick Lawden from the crime lab called and gave me some information that had just come to his attention. According to this information and evidence that I have consequently, I believe that I know who murdered Mr. Monterale." I paused for a moment and Mulder snorted slightly and then said, "Well gee Scully, don't keep me in suspense."

At that moment I wanted to strangle him. I could plead temporary insanity. He was being so childish.

"Mulder, you aren't taking this seriously, are you? You actually think I'm just feeding you some sort of convoluted theory, don't you?"

"Course not. I would never belittle another agent's credibility or intelligence by even insinuating that any of their theories are convoluted or off the wall."

My jaw starting working as I fought not to grind my teeth. Mulder didn't have any right to make this about past disagreements. Sure, I'd called him crazy more than once, and I had done my best to persuade him that his theories were nonsense, but this wasn't about that. This was about a bona fide murder case. And we were losing time arguing.

"I came here to tell you what I found out. I am not going to stand around arguing with you. Do you what to hear what I have to say or not."

"Do tell."

"Nicole Beaumont murdered Phillip Monterale," I told him sharply. The look on his face that followed would've been almost hilarious if the situation wasn't so serious. He looked like someone had just told him he was growing a tail. His eyes opened so wide that I thought maybe they would pop out of his head and his mouth made a little 'O'.

"Did I hear you correctly?" he asked, pulling at his ear as his eyebrows reached for the sky.

"You heard me."

"This- this is wild Scully. You got any proof?"

"Do you actually think I would make something like this up?" I was incredulous that he would ever insinuate I would do something as unscrupulous as fixing evidence. It made me madder than a bull stung by hornets.

"No, course not. I'm just asking is this a theory, or do you have physical evidence to support the accusation?"

Suddenly my body sagged tiredly. I had physical evidence that Nicole and Monterale had an affair, and _maybe_ I had physical evidence that Nicole tampered with the evidence, but I did not have physical evidence that she was the one who murdered Mr. Monterale. All I had there was a theory.

Mulder sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "What _do_ you have?"

I closed my eyes briefly and tried to collect my thoughts. Then I told him everything that I knew and all the new evidence the crime team had uncovered. When I got to the part about me hiding in the bathroom closet behind the clothes hamper, he started laughing.

"What is so funny?" I asked snappishly. It wasn't funny to me in the least.

"I just got this mental picture of you all scrunched up behind a clothes hamper," he responded between breaths. "It just strikes me as funny. Don't worry, someday you'll understand."

I huffed and finished by telling him about the interview with Mr. McHarlin and the library books from the girl.

"We need to get to this girl before Nicole does," I told him, trying to making it clear I was going on with this investigation with or without him.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We also need more physical evidence because I don't think her fellow detectives will believe something like this with what you have right now, even if the girl can tell us something."

"I know. I think the only way we'll be able to find her is through the library, but it's closed, so Nicole can't find out anything either."

We had both run out of things to discuss about the case, and now there was an uneasy silence between us. We obviously weren't going to fix our differences and there didn't seem to be anything for me to do except head for my room and get something to eat. I was starting to feel shaky.

Just as I reached the adjoining door, the room tilted crazily and I had to grab the frame to keep from falling over.

"Scully!" Mulder exclaimed behind me and then I felt his hands on my shoulders, steadying me.

"I'm fine," I assured him as the spinning passed and I could stand up straight again. I really needed to get something to eat, and then I needed sleep.

"You don't look fine to me."

"I am."

"Tell me the truth for once."

I wrenched away from him and stood glaring at him.

"What is it with you and the truth Mulder? Do you have to know the truth about everything, including me? Why? So you can stand there and hover over me; worry about me?"

I stopped, gulping for breath and right before my eyes Mulder's face drained of color. An absolutely horrified expression slide across his face and he asked in a whisper: "What's wrong? Is, are, did it…?"

For a moment I wondered what he was babbling about and then my heart jumped when I realized what he was trying to ask. I could see a naked fear in his eyes. There was no mistaking what I saw. I felt remorse for scaring him like that. I should've never come off that way. I wasn't thinking clearly.

"I'm still in remission," I told him softly and his eyes closed in relief as his shoulders slumped.

"Just don't ever lie to me Scully," he whispered.

"I'm not."

"Then why do you tell me you're fine when you not?"

"I am fine. Just because I'm tired or I don't feel real well doesn't mean I'm not fine."

"So fine means you can function?"

I gave a small, mirthless smile. I guess that's what I had always meant when I said I was fine. I nodded and he huffed air out his mouth.

"I guess I say I'm fine because I don't want you to worry about or treat me like I can't handle things. Everybody has aches and pains all the time, and I'm no different," I said.

"I know that, but I just wish you'd tell me what's wrong. Look, I know you can handle things, and I have immense respect for you. Just don't blow me off. Be honest with me."

I nodded and turned for the door, and then Mulder's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"I didn't sleep with her Scully," he said quietly and my stomach gave a strange lurch.

"What?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Nicole and I didn't sleep together," he repeated.

"Why are you even telling me this?"

"Because, I'm being honest with you."

"What you do on your personal time is none of my business," I said, my voice level and calm even though my stomach was churning. I didn't want to talk about this, at least not right now. It couldn't lead to anything good, only more arguing.

Mulder let out a sound that was cross between a laugh and a snort, and shook his head. "Since when didn't we know what the other was doing?" he asked.

"Mulder, there's nothing you have to be honest about."

"I think there is. I think that since you stumbled in on us it's been eating at you. Hasn't it?"

His hazel-green eyes were boring into me, looking right into me. For a moment I held his gaze, but the whole time it made my insides squirm.

"You can't answer that, can you? If you say yes, then it means that you're jealous, and if you say no, that means you're lying," he said with a short bitter chuckle.

He was right. There was no way I could answer his question without lying or proving I was jealous. I wanted to scream at him that he was being ridiculous, that he was crazy, that it wasn't eating at me, but I couldn't. I knew he would never believe me. Besides, I didn't scream.

My breathing was speeding up, coming in small puffs and I felt my body flush with anger when I realized what the next words out of his mouth were going to be.

"You know, silence only means that you know I'm right," he said. His face was completely serious, but I swore I could see an underlying smirk. Oh, I was mad! Now he was just goading me, seeing how far he could push me. I firmly believed he was going into his interrogator mode. Well, two could play that game.

"Why would I be jealous Mulder? What would I be jealous of? Hmm, tell me that," I challenged him, staring him straight in the eye. I hoped I could throw him off guard, confuse him by using a head-on attack, but you had to get up real early to confuse Fox Mulder.

"Gee Scully, I dunno, maybe Nicole," he countered. "Maybe me and Nicole."

He was starting to push my buttons just right, and I knew this couldn't go on. I took a deep, steadying breath and mentally told myself to calm down.

"Mulder, whether you sleep with every woman we come in contact with doesn't matter to me," I lied, the whole time feeling sick that I was. "What matters to me is that you conduct yourself professionally, and not like you have been."

"And just how have I been acting?"

"You have been acting like a hormone driven teenager: a hormone driven teenager who has no control over those hormones."

"What!"

"Ever since you saw Nicole, you've been drooling over her like you've lost control of your salivatory glands. You've been flirting with her, touching her whenever you get the opportunity, and you almost slept with her. That is not professional Mulder, it's juvenile and offensive," I said, my voice now level and cold. They didn't call me the Ice Queen for nothing, I thought wryly, when I saw Mulder wince slightly.

Mulder opened his mouth, closed it and swallowed. He looked hurt and my stomach twisted painfully. But it was the truth. I did find it offensive when he acted like that with other women. The only problem was when he touched me and flirted with me, I enjoyed it very much. Almost too much, sometimes. I was two faced.

I felt the adrenaline draining away and suddenly all I wanted to do was go to sleep and forget about my problems.

"I apologize for that," he said and I nodded. Then I turned and went to my room, but as I tried to open the door I realized it was locked. I had checked out and now I needed to go check back in. I stalked back through Mulder's room and headed down to the main office.

When I finally got checked back in the same room, I got the luggage out of my car and went up. I passed Mulder's door, hoping he wouldn't open it and try to talk to me. There wasn't anything more that could be said, not without some apologizing on my part, and also some explaining. And I couldn't bring myself to do that, not tonight.

As I lay in bed later, thinking about our fight, tears began to burn my eyes. I acted like an ice queen: cold, clinical, harsh, but I wasn't, not really. I was a woman and I like everything that any woman likes. I wanted the things that any woman wants: a nice little house, a husband, some kids, and a dog. At least, that's what every woman I knew wanted. And most of them had that; but not me. That wasn't going to happen for me.

Slowly I sank into a shallow, restless sleep filled with disturbing dreams.

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I didn't know what woke me up the next morning. All I knew was that I came awake feeling fuzzy and unrested. I really did believe that emotional confrontations were as draining or more so than hard physical exercise.

I wondered if Mulder had left already, or if he had waited for me. Either way I really didn't care. I had a numb ache when I thought about last night's altercation.

I did know though that I needed to get some coffee. I figured I would treat myself to the good kind today.

When I stepped outside my room, my heart jumped into my throat when a voice said, "Mornin'." I whirled, nearly pulling out my gun before I realized it was Mulder. As the adrenaline faded anger took over.

"What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" I hissed at him, glaring fiercely. He backed up a couple of feet and gave an apologetic shrug as if to say he was sorry. His face had a 'my dog just died' look, but the start he had given me had already put me into a bad mood, and I ignored it as I stalked down the hall to the elevator.

We didn't exchange anymore words while we got our coffee and muffins from the next door coffee shop, and I stared straight ahead when Mulder pulled out his phone and called Nicole. He told her would be following on some leads of his own, and that he would meet up with her later in the afternoon.

"Alright, where do we go?" he asked, closing his phone and returning it to his suit pocket.

"We go to the Atlanta Public Library with the books the security guards gave me," I replied. That was all we said.

When we finally got through the traffic to the library it really didn't take us too long to get the name and address of the girl who had dropped the books in the Monterales' apartment building. According to her library records, her name was Audrey Lincoln, and she was a nineteen year old, college freshman.

"So, I guess we go talk to this girl?" Mulder said as we sat in traffic behind two delivery trucks.

I suppressed a wince. It sounded to me like he was being extra cautious around me; letting me call the shots without even bothering to add his own opinion. And as much as one might think that I would like that, I didn't. I hated it. I hated it that he felt he had to step walk around me like I might suddenly blow up.

"Scully?"

His voice broke through my trance and I said, "Huh?"

"I asked if we're going to talk to Audrey Lincoln."

"Yeah, if we ever get out of traffic."

Again, we said nothing and then only things that could be heard were the sounds of the downtown Atlanta morning on the move. Suddenly our car started to sputter and cough, like it was about to stall. Mulder quickly whipped it out of traffic into a side street, to avoid a bad jam up, in case it did stall.

"Aw crap, I forgot to fill the gas tank," he muttered as the car gave one final cough and died. "Well, this puts a little hitch in our plans."

How on earth could he manage to forget to fill the gas tank? It was such a simple task! And yet somehow he managed to forget it. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something caustic.

Suddenly we both froze. Something had gotten our attention, and neither of us was quite sure what it was. We both sat still, listening, waiting, for what we didn't know. Then we heard a soft beeping noise. It sounded like it was coming from one of the front seats.

"Tell me that's you cell Scully," Mulder whispered, his eyes wide, and I shook my head.

Simultaneously we looked under the seats and then Mulder said in an eerily calm voice, "We need to get out."

My heart stopped, then started up again with a sickening jolt. I didn't ask why, just grabbed for the door handle and bolted out of the car.

The next few seconds seemed like ages, but it wasn't. Everything was a blur as we made a frantic dash down the street. All I knew was that we were running for our lives. I didn't know how far we had gotten from the car when there was a deafening blast and I glanced back. Then we were on the ground. Mulder was covering my body with his, and my face was buried in his chest, so tight I could barely breathe. I realized my hands were tightly clutching Mulder's suit, so tight that my fingernails were coming through the fabric and cutting my palms.

We lay there for a moment, with Mulder on top of me. Then he rolled off of me and we both sat up, panting. My stomach twisted when I looked back at the car. All that was left was a mass of roaring flames, leaping hungrily in the air. We had come so close to dying.

By now a crowd was beginning to gather and I could the sound of sirens in the distance. Vaguely I wondered if I was going into shock when I felt a shudder go through my body. I felt someone taking me by the arms and lifting me up from the ground. It was Mulder and he was taking me over to the sidewalk

I gave myself a small shake, trying to come out of the daze I was in, and then I looked up at Mulder. My eyes widened when I saw that his hand was bleeding. And he was trying to help me. Immediately, my doctor mode kicked in.

"Mulder, you need to sit down," I told him, gently pushing at his arms that still held me close to his side.

"No, you need to sit down," he countered.

"Mulder, you're hurt," I persisted, indicating his hand, but he shook his head.

"You're bleeding worse than I am."

"What?"

Mulder put his hand on the back of my head, just below my hairline, and then showed me his hand: it was red and covered with blood.

Suddenly I felt a pulsating ache in the back of my head, along with a sharp stinging pain as comprehension kicked in. Something must've gotten me and I just now realized it. I was lightheaded and my hands were shaking as I clutched at Mulder's arms as blackness stole my vision.


	9. Chapter 9

Hi all! Thanks for the great reviews; I appreciate them. Well, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Viorna

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 9

I sighed unhappily as I picked at the lumpy mashed potatoes on my plate. I could almost cry and scream at myself for passing out. I hadn't come to until I was in the ambulance, well on the way to the hospital. The first thing I had seen upon opening my eyes was Mulder's panicky face. He must've put up a fight to ride in the ambulance.

Now I was tucked snugly into a bed inside a private room, being monitored. The emergency room doctor had been concerned about my loss of consciousness, and since the wound required sutures, he wanted to keep me for observation. He had said I would probably be released relatively soon, seeing as the X-rays had come back clear.

That knowledge didn't appease me though. All I wanted to do was get out of the stupid bed and get on with the case. We had to get to Audrey and talk with her. I was afraid that she might have eyewitness testimony, and if Nicole found out about her, there was no telling what could happen.

Besides, I didn't need to be monitored. I knew that I hadn't really passed out from my injury. Oh, that had helped, but it was more from the aftermath of realizing how close our brush with death had been, again. How many more times would we cheat death? How many more times would I have a chance to be completely honest with Mulder about everything, including how I felt about him? Somehow it felt like I was running out of chances.

"Hey, can I come in?" I heard Mulder ask, and I looked up to see him peeking around the door.

"Yeah," I replied with a sigh.

He grabbed a chair, pulled it up close to my bed, and sat down. Then he just sat there, staring at me. For a moment or two I didn't say anything, but then his scrutiny started to make me nervous and I had to struggle to keep from squirming.

"What?" I demanded finally, unable to take it any longer.

"What's happening to us Scully?" he asked ponderingly. His voice was soft and sad, a reflection of his eyes. Suddenly my throat seemed to have a lump the size of a Georgia melon and my eyes stung as everything became hazy. He had voiced the same question I knew I had been asking myself subconsciously. What was happening to us? I didn't know anymore than he did; all I knew was that what I saw scared me. It was like we were losing our friendship. Still I couldn't bring myself to voice those thoughts.

"What do you mean?" was my counter question.

"Look at us. We, we, it's like we're losing our friendship. We're not as close as we were."

A breath hitched in my chest and tears started welling up in my eyes as he spoke. He was feeling the same thing I was, and that hurt so much for some reason. I hastily brushed at my eyes under the pretense of rubbing my forehead, as if it hurt. I just couldn't go into this, not right now. It scared me too much. So I took a silent breath and steeled myself.

"Mulder, we can't talk about this right now," I said quietly but firmly. "We have a case to work on and we don't have the time to talk about personal stuff."

"Um, Scully, in case you forgot, you're in a hospital bed right now, so we're not working on the case. We've got all the time we need while you're being monitored."

"No, we don't. Even if I'm here, that doesn't mean that you can't be out there. Besides, I'm checking myself out," I told him, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

"You can't leave! You're being monitored for crying out loud!" he protested loudly, looking around for some way to get me back in bed. I felt relatively safe that he wouldn't do anything physically.

"I'm fine. There's nothing to monitor." I really was okay. Except for a slight headache and some dull aching at the wound site, I felt fine. I knew I didn't need to be monitored; it was just a waste of my time and the hospital's.

"I'm calling the doctor," Mulder threatened. When I just kept gathering my things and heading for the bathroom, he made good on his threat and left the room, looking for the doctor who treated me. I took the opportunity to get dressed and to make sure I had all the possessions I had come in with.

When I came out of the bathroom, Mulder was standing there with Doctor Mulgrave.

"Well Agent Scully, I see you're checking yourself out," Dr. Mulgrave said with a slow, distinct southern drawl.

"Yes I am Doctor," I replied. "I don't need observation: I'm fine."

"It's my job to advise you against this. You've had a head injury, and you lost consciousness, so it's best if you are watched closely for awhile."

"I've been watched since ten this morning. Really, except for a small headache I feel fine."

"Well, if you want to leave then there really isn't anything I can do to stop you. But it would make me feel better if you consented to a quick exam."

I thought for a moment and decided that a small exam wouldn't hurt. In fact, it would be beneficial in convincing Mulder that I really was fine. So I sat back down on the bed and let Dr. Mulgrave check my eyes and my reflexes, and then look at the stitches. He said everything looked okay and while he would prefer I be monitored a little longer, it was all right for me to leave.

I signed the release papers and then Mulder and I were on our way. Mulder actually had to hustle to keep up with me on our way out of the hospital. I felt like we had lost very valuable time that we couldn't make up, and the feeling was making me a little panicky.

"Hey, slow down," Mulder told me as we reached the sidewalk. "You can't go anywhere anyway. We don't have a car."

"Oh, yeah." This was lousy. No car and our twenty-four hours rapidly ticking away: things were definitely not going our way. Then Mulder's cell phone rang and he hurriedly dug through his pockets to get it.

"Agent Mulder," he answered it. There was a short pause and then a small smile broke across his face.

"Hi Nicole," Pause, then, "No, I'm out at the hospital." There was another pause followed by a chuckle and then he said, "No, no, no, I'm not hurt. Look, I'll explain when I get down to the station. Right, bye."

He hung up and replaced the phone in his pocket, and then looked over at me. His look was met with a frown.

"Why'd you tell her you'd explain when you got to the station? Do you plan on going to the station right now?"

"She's probably going to be wondering about that car explosion by now. I mean it's gotta be on the news. I think I better go down and put her curiosity to rest, otherwise she's going to start suspecting something, 'specially since I didn't meet her this morning like I was suppose to," Mulder gave me his reasons, and I had to agree that it did make since. So I suggested that he take a cab down to the station and that I would take another cab down to the car rental store, get a car and then head out to talk to Audrey Lincoln. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to like that idea, especially the part about me driving. Finally, we decided that he would call Nicole back and tell her he was going to be delayed as he was following up on another lead. From the part of the call I heard, it sounded like she accepted his excuse without a problem. The nice thing about this excuse was that it was true.

It was well into the late afternoon by the time we finally got out to the pleasant residential section of town where Audrey Lincoln lived with her parents. The street that she lived on was lined on both sides by grand old sycamore trees and the houses were mostly two story brick, with well groomed lawns and shrubbery.

"Okay, there's the house," Mulder remarked, and swung the car into the driveway. As we walked up to the front door, I was hoping with every ounce of my being that this girl was home.

There was no response to Mulder's rapping on the door, so he rang the doorbell. A moment later we heard locks being turned and then the door was cracked open part way. An elegant looking woman peered through at us expectantly.

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is Special Agent Dana Scully; we're with the FBI. Can we talk with you?" Mulder asked politely.

"What is this about?" the woman asked in return.

Mulder and I exchanged a quick glance. It was going to be hard telling this woman what was going on without scaring the living daylights out of her.

"Does Audrey Lincoln live here?" was his next question.

"I'm her mother, now what is going on?"

"Mrs. Lincoln, we have something to discuss with you and it would be easier to do that inside because it might take awhile," I added my two cents worth.

Mrs. Lincoln's eyes widened in alarm and she opened the door wider, asking, "Has something happened to Audrey? Is she in trouble? What's going on?"

"We believe that Audrey might have been a witness to a crime," Mulder told her bluntly. It was probably best rather than dragging it out.

"What! That's, this, oh no…" Mrs. Lincoln stammered distraughtly. "You can't be serious."

"We're not positive, that's why we need to talk to her," I said.

Mrs. Lincoln motioned for us to come in and lead us into a nicely furnished living room. Then she sank trembling into a chair.

"Is Audrey home?" Mulder asked.

"No, no, she's at her baby sitting job. She has her own little baby-sitting business. She should be home soon though. But, how can she be a witness to a crime?"

"Well, like I said, we're not positive that she did see anything, but we need to be sure."

Right then, the front door opened and a young woman stepped in. From what I could recall of the grainy security film, this was the same girl. She didn't really look old enough to be nineteen. Her wavy blonde hair was in two braids, making her look younger than she already did.

When she saw us, her eyes widened to the size of saucers and she froze like a little deer in the headlights of a car, but she looked ready to bolt at any second.

"Are you Audrey?" Mulder asked quietly. She gave a barely perceptible nod.

"I'm Fox Mulder and this is Dana Scully. We're agents with the FBI, and we'd like to talk to you about something you might've seen," he started to explain, but before he could say anymore, Audrey started to shake and cry. Her mother quickly gathered her close and whispered into her ear, trying to calm her.

I rested my hand gently on Audrey's shoulder and I could feel her body shaking with suppressed sobs. What Mulder had said definitely frightened her: she must've seen something, but at the moment that wasn't my main concern. I just felt sympathy for the terrified girl.

It took a little while, but Audrey finally calmed down and she sat down beside her mother on the sofa, looking like a frightened kitten. Mulder and I seated ourselves across from her on the loveseat, so we could study her face when we talked to her.

"This is about that murder in Peachtree Apartments, isn't it?" she asked fearfully.

"Yes it is," Mulder responded. "Did you see anything?"

Audrey gulped down a sob as she nodded. "I saw it happen."

"Everything?" I asked.

"Not completely everything, but I saw her kill him," she affirmed and then started sobbing again.

The full impact of her statement hit me. Audrey saw "her kill him,": whoever that woman was we weren't sure. We had an eyewitness, but just how good of an eyewitness was in question.

"Can you tell me from the beginning?" Mulder questioned when Audrey had calmed down again. She started shaking her head no and her chest started to rise and fall rapidly. "Why not?"

"I just can't. What if she found out that I told you?"

"Do you even know who she is?" I asked.

"No."

"Can you tell us what she looked like?" asked Mulder. Audrey shrugged, and I stifled a sigh. This was going to be tough. "If you talk to us, that'll help us find her, and then we'll do our best to make sure she can't ever hurt you."

"But what if you can't find her, and what if she finds out who I am. She'll kill me," Audrey wailed.

"Did she see you?" Mrs. Lincoln asked in alarm and Audrey nodded. "Then you have to tell the agents everything you know. You have to Audrey!"

I could see Audrey fighting a battle whether or not to talk with us. After a moment, she sighed and began to speak.

"I was babysitting for Mr. and Mrs. Schumer, and they'd come home so I was going home. I was walking down the hall when I heard someone yelling for help, and it was coming from the Monterales' apartment," she sniffled, wiping her eyes. "The door was open and I just went in. He needed help."

Mulder nodded understandingly and then gently urged her to go on.

"I heard the yelling coming from the bedroom, but when I looked in, there was this woman, and and, and she was pointing a gun at him. I just froze as she fired at him. I guess it hit him, but he just stood there, and then he kinda dove for something, so she shot him again, over and over and over. And then I screamed. I couldn't help it. She saw me then, but I just started running and I didn't stop until I got home." Audrey was sobbing almost convulsively now, and her mother was rocking her back and forth in her arms.

It took a lot longer this time for her to settle down, but finally she was able to talk and breathe again.

"Can you remember anything about this woman?" Mulder probed further.

Audrey thought for a moment and then said, "Well, she had a big gun and she was taller than me, and her hair was brown, but that's all I can remember. I'm sorry, I really am."

"No, no, that's okay," I assured her. "You've been very helpful, and I promise you we'll do everything we can to catch her."

We left the Lincolns feeling even more confused and frustrated. Time was running out and we had very little evidence one way or the other. We couldn't exonerate Nicole, nor could we condemn her.

"I dunno Scully; this case is so twisted," Mulder sighed. "We don't have any evidence, not really anyway. So the shooter had brown hair: does that really mean anything?"

I couldn't say that it did. I was ready to just give and head back to Washington. Let the Atlanta PD handle it. They couldn't do any worse than we were. Sure, I knew some cases took months to solve, but that didn't matter at the moment. It just made me so mad that we were so close, yet so far.

"So what do we do now?" Mulder asked next.

"I don't know."

"I think I do. We're gonna talk to Nicole."

I was surprised but not unhappy about his decision. We needed something to break this case open and maybe talking to Nicole would be the thing that did it.

When we walked into Nicole's squad room, her face lit up with a smile when she saw Mulder, but when she saw me her eyes opened wide with surprise. It actually almost looked like shock.

"Agent Scully, I thought you had gone back to Washington," she said, recovering quickly.

"Some things came up and I had to change my plans," I told her.

"Nicole, is there some place we can talk privately," Mulder asked and she nodded, and then asked why. "We just need to talk away from other people," he explained.

Nicole lead us into an empty briefing room, and then asked, "What is this about?"

"I don't really know how to say this," Mulder began, running his hand through his hair. "There, uh, there seems to be something weird going on here."

I wanted so badly to roll my eyes. No shucks Sherlock, of course there was something weird going on here. Just say it already.

"What is going on?" Nicole demanded again.

"Detective Beaumont, we have evidence that seems to indicate that you are involved somehow in Mr. Monterale's death," I said bluntly.

"What! Did you just say what I think you said?" Nicole was incredulous. "You think that I murdered Phillip Monterale! That is completely outrageous," she snapped. "What 'evidence' do you have?"

I told her everything that I had learned from the time I had supposedly left for Washington, up until now with Audrey Lincoln. As I did, her eyes grew wider and wider, and more and more furious. Suddenly her face drained of all color and she bolted from the room.

Mulder and I looked at each other in bewilderment, and then it struck us that our suspect was on the run. We ran out after her, but we didn't see her anywhere in the hall. Then Mulder pointed to something and I saw the women's bathroom door swinging slightly.

"She could be in there," he said, and I nodded. I pulled out my gun as I headed in.

I found Nicole leaning over a sink, gripping the sides like her life depended on it. Her face was white, except for around her eyes; that was red like she was crying.

"Detective Beaumont, are you alright?" I inquired cautiously.

She gave a snort and then looked up and glared at me. "Get out of here. I'm not talking to you."

"If you didn't murder Mr. Monterale, then why won't you talk with us and try to clear this up."

"The only person I'm talking to is a lawyer, so I suggest you leave."

"I guess you're not innocent, are you? If you were, why would you talk to a lawyer?" I pushed.

"Just get out of here."

It occurred to me that maybe interrogation in the women's bathroom wasn't such a good idea. Nicole didn't look real spectacular and that was starting to concern me a bit. And then, as if to further substantiate my concern, she hurried into one of the stalls and I could hear her throwing up. I grimaced and went out of the bathroom to give her some privacy.

"What's going on?" Mulder asked when he saw me.

"I don't think she's feeling too good," I replied. "I think she's sick."

"Sick? How?"

"She's throwing up."

"Oh." Mulder gave a little shudder and then sighed. "Well, what's wrong with her?"

I just looked at him in annoyance. "How am I supposed to know what's wrong with her?"

"Well, you're a doctor."

"I just can't usually look at someone and see what's wrong with them. And I highly doubt that Nicole will let me examine her."

At that moment Nicole came out of the bathroom. When she saw us standing there, we should've been dead from the look she gave us.

"You okay Nicole?" asked Mulder.

"And why do you care?"

"We're just concerned."

"Maybe you are, but she isn't," Nicole indicated me. "She doesn't like me." I actually stepped back in surprise. I knew I didn't really like Nicole, but I didn't realize that it was obvious to the rest of the world that I didn't. "Hey Mulder," Nicole went on, "who came up with this ridiculous theory? You, or Agent Scully? 'Cause I'm willing to bet that it was Agent Scully. And since it was Agent Scully, I'm not doing any talking with you and especially not her. I really shouldn't be surprised that she did come up with it, though."

Now I was seeing red. I was so mad I could've strangled her right then and there and not even have blinked. I was about ready to give her a piece of my mind when out of the blue a thought hit me. What if my dislike for Nicole had lead me to look harder for evidence with which to convict her, even if I did it unconsciously? Was I really that jealous and spiteful? Had I really sunk that low?

My head was spinning and I knew all the color must be gone from my face. The thought scared me; terrified me actually. I couldn't really have lost my integrity and principles simply because I was jealous. I didn't want to think I would ever let my personal feelings get in the way of doing my job objectively and fairly.

"Scully?" I heard Mulder talking to me and I looked up at him. I could see concern in his eyes, but before I could tell him I was fine, his cell rang. He answered it, and a look of alarm crossed his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked when he'd hung up.

"Audrey Lincoln's just been shot."


	10. Chapter 10

Hi all! Sorry it's been soooo long since I've updated. I didn't fall through a black hole, just been really busy. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, and for being patient. Here's the next chapter; hope ya'll enjoy it:)

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 10

I sighed heavily and tried to relax my body. This was the second time in the same day that I was at the hospital, but this time it wasn't because I was hurt. Mulder, Nicole and I were waiting along with Audrey Lincoln's mother for news on her daughter. The only thing we had been told by Mrs. Lincoln when we had arrived at the hospital was that her daughter had been shot and that she was in surgery, in critical condition.

Mrs. Lincoln had told us between breathless sobs that they had been heading down to pick up Audrey's father from the airport when they had gotten a flat tire. They had gotten out to change it and a woman had pulled a car up beside theirs, pulled out a gun and had shot Audrey twice. Mrs. Lincoln didn't remember what the woman looked like, except that she had brown hair.

Now we were all waiting tensely to see if Audrey would survive. Any time now, Mr. Lincoln would be arriving from the airport, and I dreaded having to tell him why his daughter had been shot. Everything was going from bad to worse, and I didn't have a clue as to where it was going to end. People kept getting hurt left and right: I felt powerless to stop it.

"Where is she? Where's my daughter?"

We all looked up to see a haggard and harried man rushing up to the information desk. His grey hair was rumpled, along with his suit and he looked exhausted. I assumed that this man was probably Audrey's father, and my assumption was confirmed when Mrs. Lincoln ran over to him and clung to him like a life raft.

"What happened to her? The police told me she was shot. How can that have happened? How?" he demanded, but Mrs. Lincoln could only answer him with her tears and sobs.

Mulder introduced himself and then gently explained what was going on. I had figured Mr. Lincoln would be upset, but I wasn't prepared for the total outburst of rage that followed Mulder's explanation.

"How the hell did you let this happen?" he roared at Mulder and me. "You're FBI agents! You said you'd protect her, dammit! You son of… you might as well have shot her yourself!" Without any warning he swung viciously and slammed his fist hard into Mulder's jaw. Mulder stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him, and before Mr. Lincoln could do anything else, the two officers had restrained him. He was still struggling, trying to get at Mulder.

"Damn you, you said you'd protect her!" he snarled violently, breathing heavily.

"Sir, you need to calm down," one of the officers told him, but he only kept struggling against their grasp. Finally they had to take him outside to calm down, and Mrs. Lincoln followed them, still sobbing quietly. I couldn't feel anything but sorrow for them. And Mr. Lincoln had every right to be furious. We had said we wouldn't let anything happen to his daughter, and now she was in surgery, fighting for her life.

I offered my hand to Mulder and helped him steady himself. He shook his head a little bit, as if to clear it.

"Are you alright?" I asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I think so. Jaw hurts some though," he replied, rubbing it tentatively.

"I'll get some ice," said Nicole, and she hurried away to the nurses' station.

Mulder plunked himself into a chair with a groan and closed his eyes. The area where Mr. Lincoln had punched him was already starting to turn purple, and I knew it was going to be painful for a couple of days. I was concerned it might be broken.

"Mulder, I'd like to check your jaw to make sure it's not broken," I told him, but he frowned.

"It's okay, just sore."

"Let me check it."

He huffed but turned his head back so I could get a better look at his jaw. I looked it over, then I began to gently probe the area surrounding the purple spot, working my way closer to the actual bruise. He winced and groaned a little bit, and when I touched the main area he let out a strangled yelp.

"Ouch! Watch it Scully, that hurts!" he whined.

"Sorry," I said, but I continued to probe until I was satisfied that it wasn't broken. That's when I noticed my hands were shaking slightly. I hoped Mulder hadn't noticed but my hopes were squashed when he said, "Scully, your hands are shaking."

I didn't have a chance to say anything because Nicole had returned with a bag of blue ice. She handed it to Mulder and he placed it on his jaw with a little moan. I was glad she had come back when she had. I knew I would have a hard time convincing Mulder that I was fine because I was having a hard time convincing myself. I was two seconds from crying.

I quietly excused myself and hurried to the women's restroom. I needed to compose myself and right now being around Mulder didn't help me accomplish that. I took my time in the bathroom, hoping it would give Mulder a chance to forget about my hands. Unfortunately, his photographic memory wouldn't allow for that. Maybe he would just let it go; not bring up it at all.

It didn't surprise me any when I came out of the bathroom and saw him leaning up against the wall, waiting patiently for me.

"You okay Scully?"

Tears sprang to my eyes when I heard the genuine concern and consideration in his voice and suddenly I lost my voice. I wasn't fine this time, and I just couldn't bring myself to lie to him. Lying to him didn't do anything to repair our friendship; in fact, it only served to destroy it more. But admitting that I wasn't okay would be kin to admitting that I wasn't in control. I wouldn't be admitting it just to Mulder, but to myself as well.

It is often said that if you say something often enough and believe it enough, then it will eventually become true, even if it isn't. All those times of saying I was fine when I wasn't weren't just to convince Mulder, they were to convince me as well. I suddenly realized that I said it not because it meant I could function, but because it was my way of trying to keep my own fears and worries at bay. It was to make myself believe that everything was fine; that there was nothing to worry about. It was meant to protect me.

"Mulder, I…," I trailed off, unable to tell him that I wasn't fine. It would mean putting holes in my own protective shell.

"Let's go get some coffee, 'kay," he suggested.

"What about Nicole?"

"I don't think she's going to go anywhere."

"Alright. Coffee does sound good."

We went down to the hospital's cafeteria, and Mulder got us two cups of coffee while I found a table.

"Here you go," he said, handing me one of the cups, along with some cream and sugar packets.

I thanked him and started to doctor my coffee. I didn't look at him the whole time though because I was afraid he could see how upset I really was. Then I heard him sigh heavily and I looked up at him.

"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling a little worried when I saw his agitated face.

"I should ask you the same question, but you'd only say that you're fine; nothing's wrong. The thing is though, there is something wrong. But you won't talk to me and let me be your friend and that's what's wrong with me."

When I didn't say anything he went on. "You keep pushing me away Scully. Why? Why can't you talk to me; let me be your friend? Are you afraid to talk to me?"

My throat had closed up so tight I couldn't swallow and I couldn't talk. It wouldn't have mattered if I could've talked because I didn't know what to say anyway.

"You know, whenever I'm hurting, be it physically or emotionally you won't let me push you away. You're always there to make sure I'm alright and to comfort me if I need it. You stick to me tighter than a tick. But if you're hurting it's the exact opposite. And sometimes I think the more you're hurting the farther away you push me. You're always fine, no matter what," he sighed heavily. "Look, I know you're upset about Audrey getting shot; I know I am. I keep feeling like we let her down, like there was something more we could've done. I think that's probably how you feel, but there's something else bothering you. I know there is."

He took my hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze and I was afraid I would lose it right then and there. There would be no doubt left anybody's mind that something else was bothering me if I started bawling like an idiot in the hospital cafeteria. Of course there was something else bothering me. A lot of things were bothering me, but none of them could simply be fixed by talking to Mulder. I had a hard enough time talking to my therapist.

"I'm sorry Mulder," I heard myself saying and Mulder was taken aback. He blinked and then asked, "For what?" He looked as surprised as I felt.

"For the things I said the other night. For everything I've said that was wrong and hurtful. I shouldn't have said those things." I looked him in the eyes the best I could and he looked back, looking deep inside me.

"That's okay Scully. Don't worry about it. Apology accepted," he said quietly.

I nodded, but in a way I had almost wanted him to say that he didn't forgive me. That he did after what I had said to him just made me feel even guiltier.

"And I'm sorry too. I said things that I shouldn't have."

"Apology accepted," I repeated his words, and got up to leave, afraid if I stayed any longer I would lose my composure.

"Where are you going?" he asked before I could make my escape.

"To the restroom."

"Ya comin' back?"

"I have no where else to go."

When I did return I found Nicole standing next to our table with Mulder looking like he was getting ready to go somewhere.

"What's going on?" I asked curiously.

"We just got a lead on the bomb in your car," explained Nicole.

"Someone should stay here to see what happens with Audrey," I said.

"You are," Mulder told me and I frowned. I didn't think I liked the sound of Mulder going off with Nicole and not because of personal reasons. I was worried about his safety. She was still a suspect even though we didn't have enough evidence to really even question her.

Mulder motioned with his eyes for me to follow him, and then he told Nicole to go tell Mrs. and Mr. Lincoln that I would be staying with them while they worked on the case.

As soon as she was out of earshot I said, "Mulder, do you think it's such a good idea to be going out there with her? She still is a suspect after all."

"I know she's a suspect but I'm not too worried about her at the moment. Beside, what better way to keep an eye on her than to have her investigate with me?"

"Just the same, be careful."

He gave me a little smile. "Aren't I always?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes as he walked away, still smiling. I just hoped he was more careful than he usually was.

I realized as I was going back up to the ER waiting room that I felt lighter, less stressed. Simply beginning to mend the tears in our relationship made me feel better. If we could apologize to each openly and honestly, then maybe we could work out the rest of our differences. That did mean though that I would have to talk with Mulder and he would be persistent about what was bothering me. The thought of talking and opening myself up still scared me stiff.

But I couldn't keep thinking about our personal problems. It was time to push those aside and focus on my job. And right now my job was to wait with the Lincolns for any word on their daughter.

It was a long nerve-racking afternoon, and I wasn't even her mother. Every time a doctor or nurse in scrubs would walk by I would tense up, bracing myself for bad news. But each time the doctor or nurse would continue by and I would let out my breath with relief and yet with disappointment. It was hard not wanting to know and yet in reality really wanting to know. Somehow, not knowing was even harder than knowing.

It was around six in the evening and I was on my fourth cup of coffee when a tall, rather austere looking man in green scrubs walked into the waiting room and over to Audrey's parents.

"Are you Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln?" he asked and they both nodded. They were clutching each other's hands tightly, as if holding onto one another like that would help them hang onto Audrey.

"I'm Doctor Abernathy. Well, Audrey made it through surgery, but she's lost a lot of blood. Right now we have her heavily sedated so she won't be waking up for awhile," he explained.

"Is, is she in a lot of pain?" Mrs. Lincoln asked haltingly.

"Not at the moment. That's because she's sedated. It's best that we keep her that way so that her body will have time to heal without fighting the pain. Once some time has passed we'll lessen the dosage."

"But she will be alright?" Mr. Lincoln persisted.

Dr. Abernathy's face flinched slightly and though it was only for a second, he hesitated, seemingly searching for the right words.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln, I'm not going to lie to you. Right now, it's very, um, touch and go. Your daughter is strong and in good health, so that will help her chances, but there could be complications from the surgery, so it's best if you are prepared for the worst," he said bluntly. "Be prepared for the worst but hope for the best."

Though Audrey's parents paled visibly, they both nodded and there was less turmoil in their eyes. At least now they knew what to expect.

Dr. Abernathy had a nurse take them down to their daughter's room and then he stepped over to me.

"I take it that you're the officer in charge of this case," he said.

"Actually I Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI, but yes I'm working on this."

"Well, we removed three bullets from Audrey. One from the upper right side of her chest. That one lodged in a muscle and it didn't do hardly any damage. If the shooter had stopped at that Audrey would probably be going home tomorrow. The second bullet was in the upper left side of her chest. That one did a little more damage, but nothing major. Now the third bullet lodged just below her heart, and knicked one of the veins, and she almost bled out before she got here. We barely saved her, and it took quite awhile just to get things repaired. The whole time we were giving her transfusions but she just kept bleeding."

As I listened to Dr. Abernathy I realized just how close Audrey had come to dying and I couldn't help but feel responsible for what had happened to her. If we had just taken her into protective custody, or maybe placed a surveillance team outside her house, maybe this wouldn't have happened. She still might possibly die and not just because she had been in the wrong place and had seen the wrong thing but because we hadn't provided her with protection.

I gave myself a small shake. It wouldn't do any good to think about what we should've done. I needed to focus on what needed to be done now.

"Dr. Abernathy, I'm going to have the Atlanta PD post some officers outside Audrey's room for her protection. We believe that she was a witness to a murder, and that the shooting was a result of what she saw."

Dr. Abernathy nodded and told me that would be fine. I gave him my number and Mulder's number, and he said he would call me if there was any change. I thanked him and headed out to make the arrangements. Then I needed to catch up with Mulder and Nicole.

As it turned out, Mulder and Nicole caught up with me just as I was leaving the hospital. They had come back to check on Audrey, so I brought them up to date and then asked what they had found out.

"Well, we actually got lucky this time," Nicole remarked.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"We have security camera footage of a man by the name of Jake Leever putting the bomb in your car. He's chilling down at the station, waiting to talk with us."

"Yeah," Mulder interjected, "he's obviously not that observant. When we went to the library, we parked under a security camera, and he just came up and jimmied the lock with a coat hanger and tossed the bomb under my seat. But what was really lucky was that the security guard noticed it and put two and two together when he heard about the bomb."

"Well, how can we be sure that it was even the same car?"

"Because, the camera saw us get out and you can see the license plate as clear as day."

"That was lucky," I remarked. "Well, are we going to go talk to this guy?"

"That's our next order of business," Mulder told me, and we headed down to the station

Jake Leever was an impatient man. I caught a glimpse of him in the interrogation room and he was pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He walked up to the window, looked out and then, as if he knew we were out there, proceeded to give us the finger.

"Oh, real nice," I muttered as we entered the room.

When Leever saw us come in, he seated himself in one of the chairs and propped his feet up on the table with a smug leer.

"Well well well, if it isn't the FBI," he drawled, looking us over, and paying special attention to Nicole and me. "I heard rumors that law enforcement was employing hot chicks but I never believed 'em until now. Mm mm mmm, whoa!"

"Mr. Leever, I'm Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully and Detective Beaumont," Mulder told him.

"So, what's your beef with me? What am I in for?"

"Well, Mr. Leever," Nicole began, "you do know that planting bombs in cars is illegal, don't you?"

"Yeah, I heard that somewhere."

"I'm sure you did. Did you also hear about the car that blew up this morning during rush hour traffic?"

"Now that you mention, I did hear something about that. Did anybody survive that blast?"

"Yeah, we did Mr. Leever," Mulder continued. "We're just fine."

"No thanks to you," I added.

"Now just what are ya'll talking about?"

"Now c'mon, don't tell me that you didn't know that it was us in the car? The media splashed our names all over the place," said Mulder.

"Come to think of it, those names, Mulder and Scully, they do sound a little bit familiar. I might've heard 'em on the news."

"You know, a lot of times cases like these take quite awhile to solve, but this case isn't taking that long," Nicole took up the conversation.

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Whoever planted that bomb in our car didn't realize our car was parked under a security camera. We have the perp's face on camera," I went on. At that point I could see that Leever tensed up a little, but he recovered quickly. You had to give the guy credit; he was pretty good at playing it cool.

"Well, I hope you catch the crook. I gotta get going but it was nice having this little chat," he said getting up to leave, but Mulder gave him a little push back into the chair.

"We all know that it was your face on that film so there's no use denying it. In fact, denying it only makes it worse for you," he told him.

"Now, it seems to me," Leever said, "that all you have is a face and we also all know that security camera film is grainy at best, so even if I did plant that bomb like you say, I don't think I really have anything to worry about."

"That's where you wrong Mr. Leever," Nicole interjected. "You see, even though it was a big explosion, parts of the car survived, including the door handle. We have four great fingerprints and one really spectacular thumbprint. And guess what; those prints match your prints that we got from your rap sheet."

Leever's face turned a sick white and I knew we had him. He wasn't the type of guy to hold out just because he liked screwing with the police: he was going to want to cut a deal. And that's exactly what we wanted.

"Okay, what can you give me?"

"We can't cut you any deals: we don't have that authority, but if you cooperate and tell us everything we want to know we will let the federal district attorney know that you cooperated," Mulder told him.

"Alright."

We went through the process of Leever documenting the fact that he was waving his rights and talking to us without his attorney present and then we got down to business.

"Alright, did you plant the bomb in our car?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, why?"

"This broad asked me to."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know. She paid me man, a lot."

"How much?" I asked.

"Six hundred thousand."

We all looked at each other and Mulder let out a low whistle.

"That's quite a bit of money," he remarked.

"Sure is," Leever agreed. "She just told me to make a bomb and put it in this car. She gave me the license plate number. Hey, for six hundred thousand, man, well…"

"So you know how to make bombs?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's not hard and you can get the directions on the internet. 'Sides, I had practice with bombs when I was in the army."

"How'd she know to ask you? Did she just see you on the street and say, hey, I want you to make me a bomb and put it in this car?" Nicole pressed.

Leever hesitated for a moment. It was obvious that he was doing more for this woman than he was letting on. Finally he blew out a big breath and said, "Look, if I tell you this, you're gonna have to make sure nothing happens to me."

"What do you think is gonna happen to you?" asked Mulder.

"I don't wanna find out."

"We'll see what we can do."

"Alright. This woman, she said her name was Jane Smith, she paid me two hundred thousand to follow this guy for her, and see if he was cheating on her."

The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my stomach suddenly twisted up in knots.

"Well, this guy, and I think he was her husband, he definitely had extracurricular activities going. She paid me another twenty thousand just to keep my mouth shut. Guess I'm gonna have to give her that money back."

"That's all you know?" I asked.

"Yep, except she wrote me an IOU for the six hundred thousand."

"You got it with you?" Nicole asked and Leever nodded. "Give it here. I'm sending this down to the lab. We might just get lucky and her fingerprints will be in the database."

We sent the piece of paper to the lab, telling the techs that it was top priority. About two hours later we got a call back. Nicole took it and we watched while she talked. Her eyes went wide and when she hung up she turned to us with a rather startled expression.

"What?" asked Mulder.

"They only had two sets of prints on the paper. One set belongs to Mr. Leever and the second set belongs Mrs. Monterale."


	11. Chapter 11

Hi everyone! Sorry about the delay, but it's going to take a little bit longer to postbecause I'm at the part that hasn't been written yet. Special thanks to RedRose15, my beta reader, for helping with the ending train of thought.:-) Anyway, enjoy the next chapter. :-)

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 11

I sighed heavily as Mulder maneuvered the car through the early morning Atlanta traffic. We were on our way to Mrs. Monterale's apartment to execute a search warrant. With Leever's statement, Mrs. Monterale's fingerprints on the IOU, and Leever iding her from her driver's license, we had enough to get a search warrant.

Since Mrs. Monterale was a blonde, and Leever had said the woman had brown hair, we were looking for a wig. We were also looking for a .32 caliber revolver, which we had just learned from the ballistics report was the caliber used to shoot Audrey. Mr. Monterale had owned a .32. We also had a warrant that allowed us to search for anything pertaining to the case.

Miss Perkins was the one who answered the door in response to one of the officers' pounding. When she saw us, she nearly slammed the door but the officers kept her from doing it while Nicole informed her that we had a warrant to search the apartment. She didn't have much of a choice but to let us in when the officers pushed the door open and held it there.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Monterale asked, coming down the hallway. Her eyes were big and frightened, and more than a little confused.

"Mrs. Monterale, we have a warrant to search your apartment. Please have a seat on the sofa with Miss Perkins," Nicole told her.

We got down to work, searching the apartment from top to bottom. We had leave to search anywhere we liked; we could look in anything because there were lots of places that a gun or a wig could be hidden.

"Hey, Mulder, Agent Scully, c'mere," Nicole called from the bathroom.

We hurried into the bathroom and saw Nicole pointing under the sink. There, stuck up under the pipe, like the .44 had been, was a small revolver. Mulder carefully pulled it out with a gloved hand and it was very definitely a .32.

"Well, one thing down, one to go," he remarked. "I'll get this logged in."

"Okay."

We continued searching, but for awhile we didn't find anything. Finally, I worked my way into the bedroom. I looked under the bed, but there wasn't anything under there, not even dust bunnies, so I decided to look in the closet. No place like a closet to hide something.

I opened the folding mirror door and let a little gasp. There were so many hat and shoes boxes; it was like looking at a small store. I almost didn't know where to begin, so I just picked the box closest to me and started there.

"Find anything?" I heard Nicole ask behind me, and I shook my head no.

"Not yet anyway. It's gonna take a little while to go through all these boxes."

"I'll say. Do you want some help?"

"Not at the moment, but maybe you can check the dresser drawers?"

"Sure."

I pulled another box down from the top of the stack and opened it. And there inside was a brown wig. The hair was long and silky; it looked expensive.

"I found it."

Nicole came over and just shook her head. "Well, I guess we're done."

She photographed and bagged the wig, and then we headed back out to the living room.

"We found the wig," Nicole told Mulder in a low voice. "I'm ending this circus now."

"What are you doing?" I asked in the same low tone.

"Arresting Mrs. Monterale."

Before Mulder or I could say anything else, Nicole walked over to Mrs. Monterale and told her to stand up; that she was under arrest for the murder of Philip Monterale. She Mirandized Mrs. Monterale and then handcuffed her.

Mrs. Monterale started crying heavily, almost hysterically, and Miss Perkins was trying to calm her down, assuring her that her lawyer would meet her at the police station.

"You coming Scully?" Mulder asked as he started to follow them out the door.

"Not yet. I want to do a little more looking," I replied.

"Okay, but I don't think there's gonna be anything else to find. The crime techs did a pretty good job and we just about took this place apart."

"Just the same, I'm going to look a little while."

Mulder headed out and I went back to looking, but it was really only half heartedly. I didn't know if I really believed I would find something or if I just didn't want to watch Nicole interrogate Mrs. Monterale. It was so hard to believe that she had killed her husband. It had seemed to me like she really was telling the truth. Either that or she was a really good liar. And I had believed her. I had believed my gut.

What was hardest to believe was that my gut feeling was wrong. But maybe things had changed after all the years on the X-Files. Or maybe I had just wanted to prove Nicole wrong so badly that I had overlooked all the obvious evidence. I didn't know anymore.

After a while of fruitless searching through the apartment and ending in the bedroom, I decided that this was a waste of time. There wasn't anything in the apartment. I guessed what I had really been hoping for was something to prove Mrs. Monterale's innocence.

Then I heard a noise I hadn't heard before. It sounded like a low beeping, not unlike the beeping my cell phone made when it was low on battery. And not unlike the beeping Mulder and I had heard just before we found the bomb in our car. My heart leaped up and settled in my throat. There was no way this could be happening again.

It sounded like it was coming from the wall with the bullet holes. I swallowed and made my way over. I didn't know what I was going to find, but I hoped it wasn't another bomb.

I tried to locate where the sound was coming from, but I couldn't quite pinpoint it. I put my ear closer to the wall, but I still couldn't find it. I stepped back and looked at the wall and shook my head in frustration. Something wasn't right about it, or maybe something wasn't right about the picture; I didn't know what it was.

Then I looked closer at the picture and I realized what was wrong. The painting was Impressionistic, so there wasn't any real distinct image, but it looked like it was suppose to be a painting of a forest stream, running over rocks and boulders. And there in one of the boulders was a hole. I put my finger on the hole and felt that the surface wasn't flat like the rest of the painting, but instead curved out slightly. The beeping sounded like it was coming from behind the painting; it was possible there was something behind it.

I tried to pull the picture off the wall but instead of coming off, it swung like a door, opening to reveal the inside of a small safe. Or what was left of a small safe. The outer door had been removed and all that was left was the body of the safe. And sitting inside the safe was a video recorder.

Adrenaline shot through me like I made an arrest. Maybe, just maybe, there was tape in the recorder, and maybe, just maybe, it had caught the whole thing on tape. Maybe.

There were two possibilities as well. Either Mrs. Monterale knew nothing about this hidden camera, or she did know and there was something on it that she didn't want us to see, so she hadn't told. And in that case, there probably wouldn't be any tape in the recorder. One way or the other, I had to see if there was anything.

As luck would have it, there was a tape in the recorder, and it was at the end. Unfortunately, it was the type of tape that had to be inserted into a cassette, and I didn't see anything like that here, so I headed down to the crime lab.

Ben set the tape up for me and we both sat down to watch it. I felt more than a little revolted when I found out that Mr. Monterale had liked to record himself and Mrs. Monterale having sex. We fast forwarded through several X rated sections and the tape was nearing the end. Then something else popped up and Ben quickly stopped the tape.

We could see Mr. Monterale standing on one side of the bed, the side closest to the wall, and on the other side we could see Nicole. We both sat silently as we watched the tape play out. It even had audio.

"What are you doing here Nicole?" Mr. Monterale was asking.

We could see that he looked alarmed and nervous, and Nicole looked angry.

"I came to see if you would change you mind," Nicole said, her voice shaking.

"I told you, it's over. I'm going back to my wife. I told her I had an affair, but she forgave me and we're going to work on our marriage."

"You said you loved me."

"I was wrong. I love Alexis. I'm not going to do anything to hurt her. She told me she's pregnant. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure this baby has the best of everything, and that includes a complete and loving family."

We saw Nicole gulp and take a deep breath, and then she said, "Phil, I-I, I'm pregnant too. It's your baby."

"What do you want me to do? Leave Alexis. Look, I'll pay child support if you want, but I'm not leaving Alexis for you. I'm sorry you couldn't be more responsible."

"I don't want child support; I want you."

We saw Mr. Monterale shake his head, and he bent down out of sight for a moment. Then Nicole quickly reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a gun. At that moment, Mr. Monterale turned around and when he saw Nicole pointed the gun at him, he took a step back in surprise.

"Nic, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice tight with alarm.

"If my baby has to grow up without a father, then so does Alexis's."

"You can't do this."

"Haven't you ever heard that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? You bet I can do this."

Mr. Monterale turned quickly to reach for something but Nicole pulled the trigger, fast, six times and Mr. Monterale fell from view with a strangled groan. And then the tape ran out.

"Whoa," Ben exclaimed in disbelief. "It's hard to believe."

"I know," I agreed. Despite the evidence we had against Nicole, it was still hard to grasp. I actually felt nauseous now that I knew the truth.

Then I realized I needed to get down to the station and show this to Mulder, and stop the interrogation of Mrs. Monterale before something really bad happened.

When I got there, I found Mulder standing outside the interrogation room, looking in. Nicole was inside with Mrs. Monterale and another woman I presumed was her lawyer.

"Hey, did you find anything?" he asked when he saw me.

"Yeah, and we don't have to look any further."

"Why?"

"I want you to look at this tape," I told him, handing him the tape.

"What's on it?"

"Just watch it."

We headed into the briefing room and Mulder popped the tape into the VCR. As the footage I had seen just a few moments earlier rolled along, I watched his face. First it was disbelieving, then realization and finally anger. When the tape ran out, he turned to me and said, "This, this, jeez! She played us Scully."

"At least we know the truth now."

Mulder just sighed and shook his head again disbelievingly. I knew he didn't want to believe this, but this was the truth and we couldn't change what the truth was. Despite my personal dislike of Nicole, I didn't like this outcome of events anymore than he did. Not only had she murdered someone, but then she had tried to frame an innocent woman for the murder.

"What about Leever iding Mrs. Monterale from her driver's license? And what about Audrey getting shot? I know Nicole murdered Monterale, but that still doesn't explain these other things."

"Maybe if we dug deeper then we would find some explanations."

"But some of the stuff just doesn't seem possible. Nicole was here when we got the call that Audrey had been shot."

"But Mrs. Lincoln called us from the hospital, after Audrey had already been in surgery for a little while. Maybe Nicole got back to the precinct just before we did."

"All Mrs. Lincoln could remember about the woman was that she had brown hair. Now, unless Audrey can tell us more, we don't have any other evidence to tie Nicole to her getting shot. And what about Leever putting the bomb in our car? And then iding Mrs. Monterale as the woman who paid him six hundred thousand to do it."

"Mulder, you know as well as I do that those events are not coincidence. They are all somehow tied in with Nicole; we just have to prove how."

"I know. But right now we don't have to prove anything else about how she's involved with Monterale's murder. We have it on tape."

There wasn't anything left to do except to call the local District Attorney and have him set in motion the process of dismissing the charges against Mrs. Monterale. We briefly considered that we let the Atlanta PD handle things from here on out, but since there was a bombing involved, we decided that we would finish what we started.

When we walked into the room with the District Attorney and interrupted Nicole's interrogation, she looked surprised and angry.

"What's going on?" she asked, looking from me to Mulder and then at Henry Pettelli.

"We are dismissing all charges against Alexis Monterale because of new evidence regarding the case," DA Pettelli told her. "Mrs. Monterale, on behalf of the city of Atlanta, I offer my deepest apologies to you for all the trouble and grief we've caused you. I hope you'll accept my own condolences for your loss. If there's ever anything that the District Attorney's office can do for you, just let me know."

Mrs. Monterale nodded her tear stained face, and then her lawyer walked her out of the room, followed by the DA. He had told us that he would inform Nicole's superiors of the circumstances and what we were going to do.

"I don't know what you think you were trying to pull, but I don't like it. What, what is the deal here?" Nicole asked hotly.

"Nicole Beaumont, you're under arrest for the murder of Philip Monterale," Mulder told her. Her eyes opened wide and her face turned red; she looked about ready to slug Mulder across the face.

"I thought we already went through this crap," she hissed. "How many times do you need convincing that Mrs. Monterale is the one who killed Philip Monterale?"

"We know that's not true. By the way, you aren't armed are you?" I asked. When Nicole didn't answer, I cautiously approached her and did a quick but thorough frisk to make sure she wasn't carrying any weapons. She wasn't, so I went on. "After you left, I continued searching and found something that without a doubt shows that you are the killer."

"And just how do you know that she didn't plant that evidence?" Nicole asked Mulder.

"First of all, my partner would never, ever plant evidence, and secondly, there is no way to spin this evidence," Mulder shot her accusation down. "It's plain, hard, cold fact."

"Really? How can you have plain, hard, cold fact when I didn't do anything?"

"I guess you're one of those people who have to see it to believe it, aren't you," I remarked. "Well, that can be arranged."

We had a TV and VCR brought in, and then Mulder went to get the tape. I didn't say a word to Nicole the whole time he was gone and she didn't say anything to me. Sometimes I had found the best approach for interrogating suspects was to simply look at them and not a say word. Not too many people like that, but it looked like Nicole was one of those people who wasn't bothered by that tactic. It was probably because she had used it on her own suspects more than once.

When Mulder finally returned, he asked Nicole if she wanted to confess voluntarily, but she just gave him an incredulous laugh and cocked an eyebrow. So, Mulder popped the tape into the VCR and began to play it.

As the tape rolled along I watched Nicole's face carefully, looking for some sign that this was affecting her, but I saw nothing. Only an angry, insulted stare. She sat through the whole thing without flinching.

When it came to an end, Mulder asked her "I know why you said you did it on the tape, but it doesn't sound like a very good reason to me. If I wanted to make someone pay, I would've had them pay child support. It would have made his life a living hell. He would've had to hide what he was doing from his wife since he had told her he was cutting off relations with you."

"What makes you think I'm even pregnant?" Nicole asked.

"Why would you tell him you were if you weren't?" I countered.

"If you thought that was the only way to get back the man you loved, you'd do it in a heart beat. Later on you could tell him you had a miscarriage," she said, staring at me coldly. I briefly wondered if I would, but I didn't entertain the thought very long and I pressed on.

"You are pregnant though, aren't you?"

"What does it matter if I am?"

"It doesn't really matter to us, and I don't it will matter to any of the prosecuting authorities, but you do realize that your child is going to grow up with a mother in prison."

Nicole laughed derisively and shook her head, her eyes mocking us. "C'mon, I'll get a good lawyer, we might take it to trial and I'll plead temporary insanity. I wasn't myself at the time, I was scared, I couldn't think, I was a young, unmarried, pregnant woman with a mediocre income wondering how on earth I was going to raise a child without a father. Any jury will feel sorry for me and they won't convict me, or if they do, their going to recommend a light sentence to the judge, because I am pregnant, and they aren't going to want my child to grow up with a mother in jail"

"That all may be true, but you forgot a couple of things," said Mulder. "One, you shot Audrey Lincoln and that wasn't because you were a scared, unwed mother-to-be. You were covering up another crime: the murder of Philip Monterale. You see, she saw you kill him. We have her statement."

I saw Nicole flinch uncomfortably, but she didn't say anything.

"Secondly, you paid a man to put a bomb in our car. That's a federal offense," Mulder continued. "That had nothing to do with you being a scared, unwed mother-to-be either. You were trying to take out the two federal law enforcement officers investigating this case. And you know what, I bet if we press Leever hard enough he'll talk."

"You both think you're really smart, don't you?" Nicole snapped. "What makes you think that I would ever confess to any of these things even if I did do them?"

"You don't need to confess, because one way or another, we will show that you are responsible for both," I retorted.

"Go ahead, show away, 'cause you will fail."

Mulder shrugged and then called for one of the officers to take Nicole to booking. As she disappeared from view I slumped into one of the chairs with a heavy sigh.

"This is so wrong Mulder," I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. I heard Mulder agree with a sigh as he sat down in the chair across from.

"I know," he said with another sigh. "We might as well start talking to Leever, see if he'll give us what we want."

I nodded slowly. What I really wanted right at that moment was to go back to my hotel room and get some sleep. I had been up for almost twenty-four hours, with just a quick cat nap while we had waited for the search warrant to arrive. I was getting worried about Mulder too. He'd had even less sleep than me, and though he claimed he could go without sleep for awhile, people got sloppy and got hurt when they went without sleep for too long. I didn't think that it was a wise idea to go interrogate Leever without a couple hours of rest under our belt.

"Hey Mulder, I think we should back to the hotel and get a little sleep. We aren't exactly on the top of our game right now," I said, standing up and heading for the door. I was expecting a protest from Mulder, but to my surprise, he simply nodded and followed me.

"You must be getting' psychic Scully," he told me with a grin as we headed out the door. "I was just thinking the same thing."

I gave a small grin of my own, and for some reason, I felt a little lighter, a little less stressed. I realized being at odds with Mulder was very draining, maybe even more than working this case.

Four loud, sharp cracks split through the air and both Mulder and I jerked around, looking for the source of the sound. It registered that the sounds were gunshots and we grabbed for our service pistols instinctively.

"Which way'd it come from?" Mulder asked me in a low voice.

"I'm not sure," I replied in the same low tone, looking down the hall towards the interogation room.

We slowly advanced down the hallway, keeping our eyes and ears wide open. My whole body was on alert, ready to spring into action at any second.

When we finally got down to the booking room, Mulder cautiously peeked around the corner of the open door. Two or three seconds passed, and he let out a slow breath.

"Oh… shit."


	12. Chapter 12

Hi all! This is a repost of the same chapter since there seemed to be some techincal difficulties the first time it was posted. Hopfully this time it will work. Thanks for reading the story and putting up with me and my slowness at updating. Hope you enjoy the last chapter.

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 12

I tensed at Mulder's words, wondering what he saw. Then I took a deep breath and peered around the corner.

My stomach tightened and rolled over when I saw one of the officers who had taken Nicole to booking. He was lying on the floor, not moving. From the doorway I couldn't tell if he was even breathing. A dark red puddle of blood was spreading out around him, staining fallen papers and the floor.

We entered the room, glancing around to make sure that we weren't about to be ambushed, and when we'd cleared the room I hurried over to the officer. My fingers searched to find a pulse, and for a brief, sickening moment, I couldn't. Then I felt a light fluttering under my fingers and I let out the breath I didn't realize I had been holding.

I heard a groan and I looked over to see Mulder kneeling down beside another officer, helping him sit up. "She went out that back door," he told us breathlessly, pointing towards the back of the room. "She grabbed Lenny's gun and shot him and then shot me. It was like she was lightening."

"Don't worry, we'll get her," Mulder assured him, heading for the door. About a second after he disappeared out the door, officers came swarming into the room. As they crowded into the small room, I could've sworn the tension and confusion were thick enough to cut with a knife.

"What's going on?" the homicide captain, Don Chambers, asked as he grabbed the nearest phone.

"We have an escaped suspect," I told him. "My partner just went after her."

"Go, we'll take care of him. We'll start a search around the front," he replied as he took my place beside the wounded officer.

I didn't need to be told twice. I grabbed my gun from the floor and headed out the back door. When I got outside, I stopped and looked around, trying to find some indication of which way Mulder had gone. I was in a narrow alley, and to my right it was a dead end, so I decided to go left. Hopefully I was correct and Mulder hadn't gone over the fence and dumpster.

I jogged up the alley, keeping all my senses readied for action. My whole body was tense, waiting for something to happen. I was even more on edge not knowing where Mulder was. At least when I caught up with him, that would be one less thing making me on edge.

After about a minute, I came to an intersection in the alley, and again I had to try to guess which way Mulder had gone. This time it wasn't so easy. The road to my right headed out to the main street, and the road to my left continued up between the backs of the buildings.

Suddenly the relatively calm sounds of the city were shattered by a loud, popping crack, just like we had heard in the police station. A fresh burst of adrenaline rushed through me as I raced up the left street, following the lingering echoes of the gunshot.

I turned the corner first corner I came to and my heart stopped and started again with a sickening lurch. There was Mulder, slumped against a dumpster. The front of his white dress shirt was stained crimson and his eyes were closed. A second later I realized that Nicole was standing next to him, pointing a pistol at his head, her finger on the trigger.

"Drop your weapon!" I yelled and Nicole whirled around to face me. I found myself staring at the business end of a 9mm. She kept the other gun aimed at Mulder's head.

"Drop your weapon!" I ordered again and I was almost surprised at the sound of my voice. I could hear myself, but it didn't seem like I was speaking.

"Not a chance!" she yelled back. "I'm not letting you take me in."

"Drop your weapon," I repeated, my voice cold and detached. I never took my eyes off her; I just kept watching for some little movement to tell me she was about to fire. A flicker, a tightening of her finger, anything and my training would take over, and I was trained to shoot to kill. And then a thought from somewhere deep in my mind fluttered to the surface. If I killed Nicole, I would be killing her baby. No matter what its mother had done, it was still an innocent child that deserved a chance to live.

"Nicole, drop your weapon. Just put it down slowly. I don't want to have to shoot you," I told her, watching her carefully to see if she would react. She did, but not in the way I wanted.

"Somehow I don't believe that," she countered, tightening her grip on the pistol aimed at me. "I just shot your partner, and I'll bet you're as mad as hell at me."

She was right on that level, I realized. I was mad, and not just because she had shot Mulder. For everything she had done; killing Monterale, framing Mrs. Monterale, trying to kill Audrey, and Mulder and me, and for putting her own baby in danger. But I didn't want to have to shoot her.

"If I have to shoot you, there's a very good chance that I will kill you, and if I kill you, that will kill your baby."

Nicole's body jerked as if she had been struck and her hands started shaking, but she didn't loosen her grip on either gun.

"Nicole, drop your weapon."

My body jerked involuntarily at the sound of the deep voice behind me, and I saw Nicole's eyes widen and her face go white. A man stepped up beside me and out of the corner of my eye I saw that it was Don Chambers. I could hear the sounds of other people behind me; he had brought Nicole's brethren in arms with him.

"Captain, I can't do that," she responded, her voice shaking a little. "I can't."

"It's over Nicole."

"No, it's not. It's just beginning for me. You know what I've done; you know what will happen to me. My baby won't have a father. I can't let my baby grow up with a mother in jail."

For a moment there was silence in the alley. No one moved, we barely breathed. Every muscle in my body was tightened to its limit as I waited for something to happen. Would she surrender, or would someone be forced to shoot her to save another life? I didn't want it to come down to that. I just wanted to go to Mulder and get him out of there.

"Nicole, if you pull that trigger, you'll be signing your death warrant, along with your baby's," Captain Chambers said quietly. I could hear anger and sorrow in his voice. "What are you going to do? Shoot me? Shoot Agent Scully or Agent Mulder? That's not going to help you. There's no way out except to put down your weapons."

A sob shook Nicole's body and her words came out in a stammering hiss. "Everything fell apart. Everything. Why? Why'd you make me do it? Why'd you make me call the damn FBI? Everything fell apart." Another sob jerked out of her and her hands began to shake, but she still kept her grip on both guns.

She wasn't going to relinquish her hold on her weapons, and every second that she didn't could mean another second taken off of Mulder's life.

"Nicole, let us take Mulder to the hospital," I said, hoping to reason with her. "Let him go."

"I can't. If I let him go I have nothing."

My stomach twisted sickeningly. She was going to use him as a bargaining chip; as a means of escape. Didn't she know the FBI didn't negotiate?

"I can't negotiate with you," I told her. "The FBI won't let me."

"You know we don't negotiate either," I heard Chambers say.

Nicole simply shook her head, and jammed the gun hard into Mulder's temple. He flinched, but didn't open his eyes.

"I'm not bargaining," her voice was suddenly steady again and a cold nauseous feeling settle in my stomach as I realized what she was going to do.

"Don't use him as a shield," I said, trying to keep the pleading out of my voice. My throat tightened painfully and I blinked rapidly. Beside me, Chambers was shaking his head, and then he said, "Don't do this Nicole."

But none of our entreaties seemed to register on Nicole. She jabbed the gun in Mulder's neck and his eyelids fluttered and then opened. His eyes weren't focusing and his head rolled around on his shoulders like a rag dolls.

"Get up," I heard Nicole hiss at him, and he struggled to get to his feet. He grasped the edge of the dumpster and tried to pull himself up, but his feet skidded out from under him and he crashed back to the ground with a grunt.

"Get up!" she growled, and grabbed his arm and roughly jerked him. This time Mulder lurched to his feet, and then stood there, swaying dangerously.

"Don't worry," Nicole yelled at us as she once again pressed the barrel of the pistol roughly into Mulder's temple, "I'll let him go once I get out of here. But you can't follow or I will blow his brains out."

My hands were starting to shake, but I couldn't tell if it was from holding my gun on Nicole for so long or from the adrenaline. I never lowered it from her though. Something told me that if she walked out of the alley with Mulder, I probably wouldn't see him alive again. He would be a witness to which direction she would go and that was something she wouldn't want.

"Nicole, let him go and drop your weapons," I ordered loudly, taking a step towards her."

"No! Don't come any closer, or I swear, I will put a bullet in his brain."

"He's bleeding. I don't know how badly he's hurt. I have to get him to a hospital, and he has to go now."

"If he can get up and walk then he'll be okay until I'm clear."

No, he wouldn't be okay. Every fiber of my being knew she would shoot him as soon as she didn't need him anymore. I took another step closer, and then another, holding my breath with each step. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears so loudly that it hurt.

"Don't move!" Nicole yelled.

"Let him go!"

I took another step, keeping my eyes on her trigger fingers, watching for the slightest movement. If she shot at me, and I returned fire, she might react and pull the trigger of the gun pressed into Mulder's head. But she couldn't keep walking, at least not if she kept the gun that close to Mulder's head. He was weak and without her support he wouldn't be able to stay on his feet. And she couldn't very well support him with one gun pressed into his head and another one aimed at me.

"I said don't move," Nicole yelled, the tension rising in her voice.

Mulder looked at me hazily. His eyes seemed to be asking me what I was doing. What was it that I had in mind? And I didn't know the answer to that. All I knew was that I couldn't let Nicole walk out of the alley with Mulder. And I had to stop her any way I could think of.

"I need to get Mulder to a hospital. Look at him Nicole; he can barely stand. Do you want to be responsible for another person's death?"

"All I want is to get out of here, and I'm going to do that by whatever means available."

Nicole was slowing inching her way up the alley and trying to take Mulder along with her, but he was barely able to stay on his feet, so she was having a very difficult time using him as a shield. Suddenly he stumbled and fell to the ground, dragging Nicole down with him. She fell facedown, with him almost on top of her, and in the process, she lost the gun she had been holding to his head.

In a split instant I charged forward and kicked the other gun out of her hand. I kicked it as hard and as far away as I could, and then I aimed my own pistol at her.

"Don't move," I told her. The other officers had joined me, and now they were placing cuffs on her and getting her to her feet. I could hear sirens in the distance and I realized that an ambulance was on its way; it was coming for Mulder.

I dropped down on my knees beside him and gently touched his face. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. A bruise was beginning to form on his temple where Nicole had been holding the pistol to his head and I grimaced.

It looked like he had been shot in the upper left part of his chest or maybe the lower part of his shoulder, but I couldn't tell at the moment. There was too much blood for me to see. I pressed both my hands on his chest, hoping to stop some of the blood flow, but I couldn't tell if it was making much of a difference. Why wasn't the ambulance here yet? What was taking it so long? Was it stuck in traffic? Suddenly I desperately wished I had my medical bag with me. Then maybe I could do something for Mulder, instead of just waiting and hoping the ambulance got there.

Mulder gave a small groan and I looked at him. His eyes were open, and even though they were unfocused and rather glazed looking, he seemed somewhat coherent. His lips moved slightly and I realized he was trying to tell me something.

"What is it?" I asked, bending down so that my ear almost brushed his lips.

"We did it," he whispered. Then his eyes slipped closed.

I was almost ready to scream. Where was that ambulance? I heard sounds behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see two paramedics headed towards us. Part of me breathed a small sigh of relief, but another part of me kept frantically worrying about Mulder. I couldn't help it.

It seemed like ages until we finally got Mulder to the hospital and into a trauma room. And then the space was so tight that I was asked to leave. So I did the only thing I could: I stood just outside the room, waiting for any word that anyone could give me.

I don't know how long I stood there, but when they wheeled Mulder out on a gurney I jumped, and my heart started pounded again. I felt foggy, like I might've been sleeping, leaning up against the wall.

"What's going on?" I asked, following them down the hall.

"Agent Mulder is stable, but he needs surgery in order to remove the bullet," the one doctor told me. "The bullet is in the lower part of his shoulder. But it shouldn't be very long."

I nodded and the doctor gave me a smile as they disappeared into an operating room. The only thing I could do now was wait some more, so I slowly made my way down to the waiting room and sank into a chair. I was still running on the effects of adrenaline, but they were starting to wear off, and pretty soon I knew I was going to be feeling like crap.

Watching the clock wasn't going to help pass the time, so I looked down at me hands and my stomach did a slow roll. They were covered in dried blood; Mulder's blood. I could even smell it; or maybe that was my imagination. I didn't really know; I just knew I needed to wash it off me, so I headed for the restroom. There I scrubbed my hands until they were almost raw, making sure I got off all the blood. I hated seeing Mulder's blood on me. It literally made me sick to my stomach.

When I finally went back to the waiting, I found the doctor looking for me.

"I was wondering where you had gone," she said with a smile. "I just wanted to let you know that Agent Mulder is out of surgery and everything went fine and we've got him in a room. Now, he still hasn't recovered from the anesthesia, but you can see him if you like."

"Yes, I would. And thank you, Doctor…"

"Jamie McFee," she said, shaking my hand. "Don't worry; Agent Mulder is going to be just fine. He'll make a complete and rapid recovery." She gave me another smile, and then a nurse took me up to the room Mulder was in. I made sure to remember the number, because I had a feeling I would be coming and going quite a bit and I didn't want to forget where my partner was.

Mulder looked better than he had back in the alley, but he still looked pretty weak and pale. Too pale for my liking. But Dr. McFee had said he was going to be okay, so I had to trust her on that.

I picked up his chart and tried to read it, but my eyes seemed to be hazing over and crossing. The adrenaline was started to wear off, leaving me feeling like a limp dishrag. Mulder was shot, he was pale and weak looking, but he was going to be okay.

I seated myself in a chair beside the bed and took his hand in mine. I sat there for a little bit, just studying his face. Then I gently brushed a strand of damp hair off his forehead. I hoped he would wake up soon. My eyes were starting to feel so heavy; my whole body was feeling heavy, and sounds were fading in and out. I let my head sink down onto the bed beside Mulder, and my eyes slipped closed.

Something jolted me awake and I sat up with a jerk. I took a deep breath and looked around the room, wondering what had drawn me out of the delicious slumber I had just fallen into. Then I saw what it was. My head had been next to Mulder's hand and it was moving slowly. I raised my eyes to his face and a small smile curved my lips up as I looked into Mulder's hazel eyes.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" I asked after clearing my throat a little.

"I dunno. Sore, I think," he said a little hoarsely. "I think they got me on the good stuff. So what's the damage?"

"The bullet hit your lower shoulder, and they had to remove it surgically, but the doctor said you'll be fine."

He nodded, and then looked around like he was searching for something.

"Do you need something? Water?"

"Yeah."

I poured him a small glass of water and helped him take some small sips, then settled him more comfortably on the pillows.

"What happened exactly?" he asked. "Everything is kinda hazy."

"It's a long story. Why don't you rest some and then I'll fill you in on all the details."

"Give me the short story."

"We have Nicole in custody without anymore shots being fired."

"That's good." Mulder's eyes were started to droop closed and I decided he needed to get some rest. He was trying to fight it though.

"Mulder, you need rest. Close your eyes."

"You need s'eep too," he mumbled.

"I'm going to get some," I assured him, taking his hand in mine. I didn't want to leave him until he was asleep, so I sat there, just holding his hand until sleep claimed him. It wasn't very long before it did, and then I pulled the covers up a little more snugly around him. Then I did something on complete impulse: I very softly and gently placed a kiss on his cheek, letting my lips linger.

"Sleep tight Mulder," I whispered, giving his hand another squeeze before I left for the motel.

I had trouble keeping my eyes open on the drive over to the motel, and even more trouble keeping them open as I got into my pajamas and washed my face and brushed my teeth. It wasn't until I had drawn the curtains closed tightly and had just crawled into bed that I remembered that I needed to call Skinner. Our twenty-four hours had come and gone quite some time ago, and I knew Skinner was most likely in a bad mood. I was surprised he hadn't called either Mulder or me by now.

Skinner's secretary put the call through to him and the first thing he said when he picked up the phone was: "Agent Scully, do you have any idea how long it's been since I said you could have twenty-four hours?"

"I'm sorry Sir," I said in my best apology voice. "A lot happened since we last talked."

"Enlighten me Agent Scully."

I gave him an abbreviated, but still lengthy version of the events that had happened since our last conversation almost forty-eight hours ago. After I finished, Skinner wasn't nearly as angry as he had been. In fact he didn't sound angry at all. He told me to get some rest and to tell Mulder that he hoped Mulder would be feeling better soon. That was the extent of our conversation, and almost immediately after I had hung up, I was asleep.

The thing that finally woke me up was the rumbling of my stomach. It was growling angrily, and I figured it was about time to put something in it. I looked over at my clock and blinked in surprise. It read twelve-fifteen pm. I couldn't really have slept that long, could I? It had been going on six in the evening when I had gone to sleep. I would've had to have been really tired. Well, considering that I hadn't really slept in the past day or so, and everything that had happened, it made sense.

But right now I needed to get back to the hospital and see how Mulder was doing. The hospital hadn't called me, so I assumed that he was doing okay, but I still wanted to make sure for myself. I wanted to see him.

I got a quick shower, and didn't bother to fix my hair, and then grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut on my way. When I arrived at Mulder's room, I found him fast asleep. I wondered if he had slept straight through the whole time I had. He was looking a lot better than he had last night though. I tiptoed over to the bedside and looked down at Mulder. He looked so peaceful; so unthreatening right then. It was hard to believe that so many people hated him and considered him a threat. He looked anything but.

Gently, I placed my hand on his forehead. It felt normal to me, and then I scolded myself for even bothering to check. He was hooked up to a bunch of machine, and I knew one of them had to have his temperature. Still, I let my hand linger there with a sigh. It had been quite a while since we had hugged or touched each in comforting gestures. I hadn't realized before now that those little touches and hugs were a big part of our relationship, and I really missed them. Really, really missed them.

"Keep going G-Woman," Mulder's voice was rough and somewhat hoarse, but there was still a teasing tone to it. "Feels great."

Startled, I jumped and took my hand away. I had been stroking his forehead without even knowing it.

"I-I didn't realize you were awake," I stammered. I could feel the hot blood of a blush staining my neck and checks.

"I wasn't, until you started petting me. It's a nice way to wake up."

"I wasn't petting you," I protested, as at the same time my eyebrows reached for the sky. I wasn't petting him. I wasn't. Was I?

Mulder just looked at me with an impish twinkle in his eyes. For a man who had been shot less than a day ago, he was full of himself.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked by way of changing the subject.

He nodded and I handed him a cup of water. After he had drunk his fill, he looked over at me and said, "So, I think you promised me a rundown on what happened."

"Are you sure you want it now?"

"Yeah I would."

I opened my mouth but before I could get a word out, there was a knock at the door and we both looked up to see Capt. Chambers standing in the doorway.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Yeah," Mulder replied. "Have a seat."

"Thanks, but I can't stay long. I just wanted to check and see how you were feeling."

"I'm feeling pretty good. And before Scully tells you that's because they're giving me the good stuff, I feel pretty good even with them. Actually, I think I feel like I can leave."

I sighed to myself and shook my head. Mulder'd been in the hospital for just one night and already he was getting ready to protest being kept there.

"Well, that's good. Look, I don't really know how to say this, but I'm sorry," Chambers said quietly. His face was so sad that at that moment I felt so sorry for him.

"For what?" Mulder asked.

"For, for Nicole."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault."

Chambers sighed heavily, running a hand through his graying hair. "I guess not. It's just hard for me to believe that it turned out this way. I guess this explains why she got so hot under the collar when I told her to call in the FBI."

Mulder nodded understandingly and then said, "I think we're all sorry it turned out this way."

"I do want to thank you for your help though. It was much appreciated."

"You're welcome," Mulder replied and I echoed his words. Chambers gave us another nod and after telling Mulder to feel better soon, he was gone.

For a little bit, Mulder and I didn't say anything. We sat in a companionable silence, both lost in our own thoughts. Finally, I broke the quiet.

"Do you want me to fill you in on the things you don't remember?"

"No, I don't think so. I'll remember most of it soon anyway. Besides, it's not… it's not really worth it."

"What do you mean?"

"This case is over. There isn't any point in dwelling on it."

I nodded slowly and sighed. I had to agree with Mulder. There wasn't any point discussing this case. It was over.

"We do need to talk though, Scully," Mulder said quietly. My stomach gave a flop and then lay very still. Those kinds of words, said in that tone of voice almost always meant whatever needed to be talked about was sure to be complicated and awkward. I really didn't want that; at least not at this time. But somehow I couldn't stop myself from asking, "What about?"

"About things… about us."

"Oh." That was all I could say. Us, he wanted to talk about us! What did he mean by 'us'? Us as partners, us as friends, us as what? We were working through our argument; I had apologized, he had apologized, what more was there to say? "What about us?"

"Things, about our relationship specifically," Mulder began, and then he stopped with a heavy sigh and looked at me. His eyes were studying me; it felt like he was trying to see all the way inside me. Just the way he was looking at me scared me. This talk that he wanted to have, he would want to discuss things I didn't really even think about too much myself, or if I did, I denied it to myself that the thoughts occupied my mind. Quite possibly, it might lead to the answers I wanted for myself about how he felt about me.

Suddenly my stomach started churning wildly. I didn't think I wanted the truth to be revealed to me, not yet. I wasn't ready. And this wasn't the time and place for this talk, not here in a hospital while Mulder was just starting to recover from a gunshot wound. When we had this talk it should be when we were both relaxed and rested and healthy. It should be when we could both think rationally and calmly.

"Scully?" Mulder's voice drew me out of my thoughts and I looked over at him questioningly. "You still with me?"

"Yeah," I said heavily. I took a deep breath and my stomach gave a quiver. This wasn't going to be easy; explaining to him why I didn't think it was a good idea to talk right now. "Listen Mulder, I think it would be best if we had this conversation some other time."

Now it was Mulder's turn to sit and stare at me without saying anything except for a very flat, "Oh." Then, "Why?"

"Because, we're both still tired, you're sitting in a hospital bed on pain meds; now's just not the right time."

"Then when is the right time?" Even as he asked, his eyes were beginning to become unfocused. He pushed himself up a little further on the pillow and struggled to keep his eyes from going closed. It seemed like come hell or high water, he was determined to have this talk now, and I felt guilty, traitorous even. Did I really, truly believe that this wasn't the right time, or was it merely a way of avoiding issues and feelings? Whatever it was, I didn't want to analyze it. I just wanted Mulder to understand that we couldn't talk right now, and I had given him the reasoning.

"When we can both think straight," I told him. "There will be a right time; it's just not now."

Mulder just looked at me, a little blankly I thought. Then he blinked and sighed heavily.

"I hope there will be a right time," he said softly, almost sadly, and my heart fell to the floor. Suddenly, I felt more traitorous than ever, and I was even less convinced than before that I was handling this the right way. Maybe there wouldn't ever be a "right time". With our history and track record, who knew? And what if there wasn't?

I felt a gentle pressure on my hand and I looked down to see Mulder holding it in his. He was gently rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb and I felt tears sting my eyes as my throat squeezed painfully. I hoped that there would be a right time. I sighed and then in my mind, I made a promise to myself. I would make sure, someday, somewhere, somehow, there would be that right time.

Fin

The end is just the beginning…


End file.
